


Blue

by Happyritas



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: ACTUAL Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Angst, Black Character(s), Blood and Gore, Cause this fandom needs a little flavour, Child Experimentation, Deaf Clint Barton, Demisexual Main Character, Dog Fighting, F/M, Fluff, Implied Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes - Freeform, M/M, Master/Slave, Medical Abuse, Mental Abuse, Other, Physical Abuse, Physical Mutations, Poverty, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sad, Substance Abuse, Torture, and claws, and then later, but thats none of my buisness tho, fangs, gay babies, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-04-30 21:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 52,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14506041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyritas/pseuds/Happyritas
Summary: "My baby Blue. Let me see those beautiful eyes..."| - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |"I have a job for you," he said, and Blue sat to attention. "Go to this address and kill the man who lives there."Blue did as he was told --- he always did as he was told. Failure was not an option.But, this time, he made an exception.| - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |I do not own Avengers, Disney does. I only own Blue and his story.This story contains mentions and scenes of physical abuse, animal abuse, and medical abuse, along with blood and gore. If you are uncomfortable with these themes, I recommend you do not read this story.Takes place Pre-Winter Soldier.





	1. 0 | Author's Note

**| - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |**

**This story takes place before Winter Soldier, roughly 3-6 months.**

**I will also be updating this story every other Monday, unless other issues arises and I am unable to. When I finish pre-writing it, I may change it to every Monday, but I haven't decided yet.**

**Yes, I have seen Infinity War, yes, I know what happens (which is the main reason why this story is set back so far).** **Please don't spoil it for those who haven't gotten the chance to see it yet!**

**This story is not just based on the Marvel movies, but the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). Expect appearances of other characters from the television shows that are not traditionally mentioned in the movies later on.**

**As you may see in my stories, I don't do face-claims. I like to let you, the reader, imagine what the character looks like, instead of telling you what I think they look like.**

**And, finally, please do not rewrite or copy my story under any circumstances. Not only is it illegal, but it's also rude. I upload all of my stories on AO3 and Fanfic.Net. If you have another social media outlet that you believe I should join, then PM me and I will post my stories there as well.**

**With out further ado, I hope you enjoy my story. I'll see you all next time, and remember...**

**Don't melt~!**   
**\- Happyritas <OOO**

**| - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |** ****


	2. 1 | Blue Eyes

**Chapter One:**

Blue jumped out of his bed as soon as he heard the door close. "Ma!" He called, running down the hall, and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Why are you still awake?" Ma scolded, but wrapped her arms around her five-year-old son. "It is far past your bedtime."

Blue frowned, "I wanted to finish our story..." He murmured and his mother chuckled, pinching his cheek.

"Fine, but not for long. You gonna have to go to sleep soon, little man," his ma decided. She brought her son the small rickety bed they shared, and sat him down.

"So, the pirates captured the boats!" Blue began immediately, "And they men cried 'oh no, they're gonna kill us!'"

"Kill them?" Ma mused, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but then the Captain of the pirates came forward and said, 'We don't wanna kill you, we wanna be your friends!' Then, they had a big party and--and---!"

"Maybe," his ma suggested, "They went to go get ice cream." Blue's dark eyes practically glowed with excitement. Blue's Ma always said that she loved his eyes. She said that when he was born, she thought his eyes were so dark, that they almost looked blue. That's where his name came from Blue, after his black-blue eyes.

"Yeah! Yeah! They went to have a big, huge, party with ice cream and hot dogs and cake and cookies and--and _brownies_!" Blue loved brownies, his neighbor, Mrs. Justine, made the beat brownies in all of East Palo Alto, at least so he said.

His mother laughed. Blue always thought she sounded like the metal woodchimes in Mr. Davis' yard. "You're making me hungry, Blue." Her eyes fluttered despite the dark bags that hung under them. His ma had been at work since nine AM that morning. "What else happened?"

Blue grinned, showing his missing tooth he lost a few days ago. "They came here and became best friends with me and you Ma!"

"Really? How's that?"

Blue thought for a moment. "They found you on the docks, and decided that my ma was the bestest, most prettiest and beautifulest ma in the whole wide world!"

"' _The whole wide world_ '?" His ma parroted, laughing again. "Wow, I'm honoured."

Blue nodded eagerly, "So, they let us on their ship and they gave us a big, huge house, like the ones that are in my books! And we lived happily ever after!"

"That's amazing, Blue," his ma grinned. "That was a great story!" Blue smiled pridefully, and his mother stretched on his bed. "I think it's bedtime, now."

Blue nodded, crawling into the blankets right beside his mother. "Goodnight, ma!" Blue whispered, cuddling close to her as she ran her fingers through his stringy curls.

"'Night, my baby Blue," she murmured, setting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

That night, Blue dreamed parties and pirates and houses as big as the castles in his book.

It was also the last night he dreamed of such fanciful things.

**a·z·u·l**

When Blue's ma went to work, she would ask his Mrs. Justine to watch him. Sometimes, Mrs. Justine would let him do odd jobs for her in exchange for spare change. Blue collected it, and saved every penny. He put it in a jar, and kept in under his and his ma's bed.

One day, Blue would have enough money to buy his ma a house as big as the ones in his story books. He would have so much money that his ma would never ever have to work again. He was going to collect as many jars of coins as he could, so he worked extra hard.

When Mrs. Justine would go to sleep, he would go to his other neighbours, doing jobs for them too.

One day, Mr. Davis, the man with the metal windchimes in his yard. He gave Blue a trash bag and gloves and asked him to clean out his yard. He promised Blue a whole ten-dollar-bill when he finished. He even showed it to Blue --- he had never seen a ten-dollar-bill before.

Blue got to work, picking up bags and broken soda cans kids in the neighbourhood kicked in his yard. He dumped dropped them in the large bag, not taking a second for a break.

Blue worked until it was nearly 2 PM, he was almost completely done! He sighed for a minute, wiping his sweaty forehead. It was getting hot, but he didn't dare take a break.

Blue continued to pick up trash --- the bag he used had gotten too heavy for him to pull around. He stopped when he suddenly heard a loud scream, followed by a girl shouting. " _Help! Help me!_ "

Blue looked around, there weren't any adults outside. He didn't want this girl to be hurt.

Blue looked back at his trashbag. If he left, even for a minute, would Mr. Davis still pay him?

The girl screaned again, and Blue began to run. He wouldn't be long anyway, maybe an adult had heard and came to help.

Blue ran out of Mr. Davis' yard and down a few houses. He heard the scream again between two of the small houses. Neither of them had cars in either driveway.

Blue ran in-between the house, looking around. He didn't see anyone. "Hello?" He called out. Was he too late?

Blue turned around, hoping to find an adult, when something heavy hit him in the back of his head. Blue went flying, slamming into the concrete, his eyes rolling into his head.

**с·и·н·и·й**

When Blue woke up, his head was hurting. He moaned, tears escaping his eyes. He tried to wipe then away, but he couldn't move his hands, his feet. There was something covering his eyes, but he felt his surroundings move and jump. He was in a car?

Blue tried to cry for help, but all he managed was muffled gasps. Where was he? Where was his Ma? Blue continued to cry until someone hit him upside the head. Blue gasped, his head hurting even more, and he curled up. " _Quiet_!" A female voice snapped. "God, they're all so irritating!"

Blue sniffed, tears staining whatever was keeping him from opening his eyes. He wanted to go back home, where were they taking him?

Blue laid in the shaking car, crying softly. The only sounds he made were little gasps and hiccups.

The car finally stopped and Blue smelt the salty air of the ocean. It smelt like the docks where his Ma worked. He called, hoping she would answer him, wishing she would come for him.

He felt someone yank him to his feet, and Blue kicked and squirmed, screaming for his mother to come get him.

Someone scowled and let go of his shirt. Blue felt for a second, waiting for him to hit the ground, but instead hit the cold, freezing California water.

Blue gasped, water filling his mouth, as he struggled to stay afloat. He squirmed, trying to swim, but his arms and legs were tied. He couldn't even see where he was, much less swim away.

Someone grabbed the back of his shirt, lifting him out of the water. Blue gasped and coughed, vomiting over the wooden boards. He heard someone shouting before he was picked back up and shoved somewhere new.

Blue immediately smelt waste around him, followed by the muffled cries of other children. Blue fell on his side and he tried to take the blindfold off, grunting and struggling as he tore at the duct tape.

He managed to get a corner free, and saw a woman with fair skin and dark hair. She wore a shirt with a weird symbol on it that looked like two triangles together. She was glaring at all of the other children before slamming the truck's doors shut


	3. 2 | Blue Gloves

**Chapter Two:**

It felt like days until the big door was opened again. Blue had already managed to take the tape off his eyes and were trying to get the thick plastic off his hands with his teeth. It didn't work, no matter how hard he pulled and bit at it.

When the door finally opened, Blue sat up, glaring as the woman and several other men walked in. "Smells like _shit_ in here," one of them grumbled.

"Because it _is_ ," the woman said, her tone clipped and annoyed. She looked at all of the children, her eyes landing on Blue's. " _Oh_. This one managed to get the tape off," She mused. She walked over, dragging him up by his arms and inspecting him.

Blue glared, and squirmed, but her grip was tight. Her nails dug into his dark sink, and Blue winced. "Fiesty, too. I'm taking this one."

"He'll just be more work," the man to the side rolled his eyes, looking over a girl on her back, turning her over with his shoe. The girl let out a small cry, terrified.

The woman turned to him, smirking. "I'm up for a challenge."

"Don't bother," another said, picking up a boy, dangling him by the leg. The boy wailed, his face turning a tint of red. "He's not worth the work. Probably just die in a day or two."

The woman sent an annoyed glare his way as the man finally dropped the boy. He landed on his head with a crack. The boy twitched, and stopped moving.

Blue's eyes widened and the woman dragged him out and dropping him in a crate, along with two other children. "My employers like them struggling," She admitted, and walked away. "I'll be back later, don't send them off just yet."

Blue tried to stand, and see over the edge, but every attempt he made, he fell on his but. Finally, the woman stopped, pulling the three children into another small, dark room. She pushed the crate over, and the three children tumbled out. Blue fell on his back, scooting away as the other two children fell beside him.

"You're up first," she said to Blue, grabbing Blue by the shoulder and leading him away from the other two. She closed the door, dropping a heavy looking lock on it.

She dragged Blue into a bright room, where a small group of adults stood. Blue looked over at them. His eyed wide, and he began to plead, asking them for help. They could hardly understand him with his covered mouths, and Blue didn't blame them, he could hardly understand himself. They were all turned away, talking to one another and asking questions.

The woman lifted him to a metal table, a thin sheet of paper covering it. She pulled a knife out of a pocket and Blue screamed, squirming away. The woman was unconcerned, taking his arms and cutting through the thick plastic. Then, she tied his hands down on the sides.

"Ah, don't damage him too much," one of the adults said, stepping over. A young won an trailed behind him, holding a clipboard. He stepped over and looked at Blue critically. "We have a buyer willing to pay a quarter mil., if this experiment goes according to plan." Blue looked at him, confused. The man pulled out a small flashlight, and shined it in Blue's eyes. Blue squinted, trying to close his eyes, but the man forced them opened.

He turned to a younger woman and told her something Blue didn't quite understand, and she nodded, writing quickly. The woman who brought him in was tying his ankles down.

"Get the preparations ready. We only have a five minute window between Stages 1 and 2," He said, and the other adults nodded, pulling on light blue gloves.

The man turned to the woman who was standing in the corner, watching curiously. "You're dismissed, Ms. Rain."

The woman's eyes narrowed, but she gave a curt nod and turned to walk away.

Someone grabbed a pair of scissors and began to cut his shirt and other clothes off of him. Blue squirmed, twisting and turn in on the table, trying to move away. Someone else pulled the scraps of clothes off, leaving him bare for just his underwear.

"Are we administering anaesthesia?" A man asked.

"Not this time. In the last trials, were under anaesthesia they failed."

"And, we're low on that stock," the woman with the clipboard said. "It won't be for another three weeks until we get more."

When they finished, the man turned his back on Blue while someone else began to wipe underneath of his chin. He smelt the alcoholic wipe immediately --- his Ma used it on him when he cut up his knee after he tripped on concrete.

_"This'll make it all better, baby. Don't cry, lemme see those beautiful eyes."_

  
Blue sniffed, the tears running down the side of his face. "Ready," the man said, turning around. Blue stared in absolute horror as he held out a nearly two inch long syringe. Inside of the glass cylinder was a thickly black substance Blue couldn't possibly know.

He remembered having to go to the doctor to get his shots for school --- he was staring kindergarten in a month, but he already knew how to read --- his mother made sure of it. When Mrs. Justine wasn't sleeping and Blue wasn't cleaning her yard, she would read him the Bible front and back.

Blue didn't quite like it, but he loved the words that grew from it --- the long words he didn't know how to say, the short ones he didn't know what meant. Whenever Blue got confused, she gave him a dictionary and said, " _Learn it._ "

Blue struggled, twisting his head this say and that. This was nothing like the shot he got with his Ma. The doctor had been soft smiles and reassurances and ' _it'll feel like a pinch_ '.

Now, nobody was saying anything. He felt like all the sound had been dragged out of his ears. He fought in a blind panic, all terror and frantic movements.

Someone held his head and shoulder still as the man pushed the needle into his skin. Blue hissed, feeling it break skin. Blue let out a sudden scream, momentarily shocking the man holding his head straight. The needle twisted as the contents were injected into his skin, going to wrong direction.

" _Shit_!" He swore, as Blue let out angry growls, unable to speak.

"He moved his head!" The man defended, as the man moved, his eyes widening.

Blue felt something begin to feel as if it were weighing his head down. He groaned, his eyes beginning to involuntarily water. "You have to inject the rest!" Someone was saying, "Leaving him in a halfway state will be a waste!"

Blue shook his head, just as he felt a burning pain behind his eyes. He screamed squeezing them shut. The adults began to argue again, yelling at one another, swearing and upset.

Blue felt another sharp prick and let out a gasp. His head pounded and his eyes burned. It hurt to blink, it hurt to move his face!

Blue wailed, gasping loudly, it _hurt_. It hurt so _bad_! Blue screamed for help, he screamed for safety, but none of adults moved to comfort him. The simply observed and took notes.

Blue felt another round of pain. He slammed his head back, his body arching and toes curling. The scream he tried to release died pitifully in his throat.

They watched was Blue strained to be held down, he shook, trying to pull away from the restraints on his arms. His jaw trembled and his body strained.

Blue wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to go to sleep and let it be over. He wanted to go home and see his ma embrace him tivht and call him her ' _baby Blue_ ' again. He wanted to see his ma, he wanted to heard her talk and hold her close.

Blue felt more pain, behind his temples and let out an anguished cry, for help, for release. Why were they doing this? What did Blue do to make them hurt him?

And why Blue, of all the children in the world, why _him_?

"Going into shock. We need to---!"

"Wait," the man said, moving closer to watch Blue's sweating, struggling body. "Don't touch him, not yet."

"Sir, he'll---!"

"That's an _order_ , Jones," the man snapped and Blue inhaled, his eyes rolling aimlessly behind his eyelids.

The pain was evening slight, seeming to hurt all over his body instead of just in his head. Blue breathed, a slight relief.

"Give him another dosage," The man said and shouts sounded all around him.

Blue hardly listened to their bickering. The world had begun to fade gently. He began to feel semblance of peace. His breathing evened as he embraced it, ready to let go. Ready to be _free_.

He felt a other prick in his neck. All at once, he was dragged back.

Unlike the first two times, the pain in this one was near immediate. As soon as the contents were empty, Blue inhaled sharply. He screamed, sitting up. His arms tore through the restraints as if they were paper. The adults jumped back, shocked. All except one.

Blue held unto the sides of his head, trying to breathe correctly. " _There we go..."_ The man beside him whispered gently. He took Blue's hands and pulled the boy close. Blue sat frozen in the unexpected hug. "We're going to make you the _greatest thing_ this country has ever seen." The man began to pet Blue's head affectionately, like a child would a dog.

" _Sir_ \---" someone spoke up, but suddenly stopped talking.

The man gripped his shoulders tight and Blue made a noise of pain. "You will follow _every_ order given to you. You will do _exactly_ as I, or anyone who owns you, says. Is that clear?"

Blue shook his head, he was so confused. He didn't know what this man was talking about. " _Wh--What_?" His voice was small and squeaky. "I don't understand."

The man sighed, picking up something off of a silver-grey tray. Blue didn't even get the chance to look at it before he stabbed it into his exposed thigh.

Blue screamed, falling over on the table, his hands holding his leg as tears grew in his eyes. The man leaned over Blue, yanking his hands away and pulling them over his head. "First order of buisness. _No_ questions."

" _But_ \---!"

The man pushed the knife in his thigh further. Blue screamed in pain, his legs kicking and heart pounding. "Do I make myself clear?"

Blue slowly nodded. The man smiled and yanked the knife out. Blue gasped as blood spurted from the wound. " _Look at me_ ," the man ordered and Blue slowly turned his head from his injured thigh to the man. "Questions are for _people_. You are no longer a _person_."

" _I_ \---" The knife was in his hand now. He pierced right through it, scrapping the metal table under him. Blue tried to scream, but the man covered his mouth with his blue, plastic hands.

"You are no longer a person," the man insisted, twisting the knife slowly. "From now on, you are _mine_." Blue felt big tears running down his cheeks. "You will not question me," he pushed the knife deeper. "You will not hurt anyone unless I say so," Blue let out a gasp, his body shaking with the unreleased sobs. "And, you will do _exactly_ as I say, when I say it. Is that clear?"

"Yes!" Blue gasped. "Yes! _Please_!" He wanted the knife out. He wanted to go home.

"' _Yes, Master_ '," He corrected.

Blue nodded, "Ye--Yes, Master!" The man smiled, and took the knife out. Blue sat up and sobbed. Holding his injured hand close.

"Bandage him up," the man ordered and people scrambled. Blue was held down as men and women dabbed at his thighs and hands. "I want close observations 24/7 until it's time for shipment. We may have to make adjustments."

"Let go!" Blue snapped a them as someone took a needle out, and someone else carefully held him down. Blue screamed as the woman gently sewed stitches in his thigh.

Blue struggled, kicking a man in the gut, slammimg his head on the table and trying to bite another woman. He was breathing quickly, and nothing was settling him.

The man, his self-proclaimed Master, watched him from afar. Blue swallowed, blinking hard. He didn't want anymore knives in his legs and hands. He didn't want anyone injections in his head.

Blue just wanted to be left alone and to go back home --- in no particular order.

Unfortunately, neither of those things were going to happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |
> 
>  
> 
> I forgot to put this in the last chapter, so I'm saying it now. For the 'line breaks/time skips' in this story, I've been finding different ways to say the word 'Blue' in different languages.
> 
> I don't think I've mentioned this before, but I love languages --- especially now words are said and expressed differently. I'm also aware that some people might feel uncomfortable with having it in my story like this. So, if I get any complaints, and I really mean any, I'll change it to this:
> 
> | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |
> 
>  
> 
> Tell me what you guys want in the comments. I really don't want to offend anyone by something like this, so if it upsets you, please tell me!
> 
> Sorry for such a serious note guys, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll see y'all next Monday, and remember...
> 
> Don't melt~!  
> \- Happyritas 


	4. 3 | Blue Bruises

**Chapter Three:**

Blue wiggled and writhed in his cage. He breathed quickly through his nose, his arms shaking. He felt like his entire back was on fire after those injections. It had only been a few months since his arrival and since then, Blue had been in constant pain.

The door opened and Blue quieted down enough to hear dinner being brought in. The man dumped the small brown pebbles in front of each cage. Blue's stomach growled, but he didn't lunge forward like everyone else. His breakfast was still in his bowl, waiting and untouched.

The man stopped in front of Blue's cage, and sneered. "Why aren't you _eating_?" He grumbled, kicking at the base.

Blue kept his eyes on the floor, not moving. " _Hey_!" The man grabbed the grilled bars, yanking it forward. Blue snapped, jumping forward, his teeth clamping onto his knuckles. He felt the top of his mouth burn sharply in pain, and Blue fell back, holding his mouth and groaning.

The man swore and spit on him, "Wait till I tell McClain this!" He growled and set the bucket of kibble at the door, out of reach of all of the other unfed, starving children.

**b·l·e·u**

He laid prone on his back, holding his mouth in his hands, spitting up blood occasionally.

He heard the doors open and in less than a minute, his Master was waiting in front of the cage. He opened the filthy cage and snapped his fingers twice. Blue moved immediately, knowing better than to disobey him.

Blue sat on the ground, his eyes looking at his hands as his Master pulled on the cold, blue gloves. Blue flinched, knowing nothing good every came from those things.

"Open your mouth," he ordered and Blue held his mouth open. His Master stuck his hand in and Blue gagged a bit. The man pressed hard against the top of his mouth, and immediately Blue felt a sharp pain.

He fell back, covering his mouth with his hands, wincing. "Just as I thought. The growth is complete. Take him to surgery." The man Blue bit grabbed is arm and dragged him to the room, despite Blue being perfectly capable of using his legs.

They tied him down as usual, and Blue was complacent. What he didn't expect was the silver device they put in his mouth that held it open. "Begin the procedure," his Master ordered.

Someone pushed two fingers into his mouth, pressing against his gums. Blue felt the sharp pain run through him and whined, but they didn't let up. They had some sort of hose in his mouth, keeping the blood and saliva from building up. Blue squeezed his eyes shut, his nails scratching long marks in the metal table.

The procedure had taken hours. Whatever was in his mouth was stubborn and didn't want to move. His Master ordered that they had to cut his gums open in order to make it easier. By this point, Blue was too exhausted and in too much pain worry about much else. They cut his gums open and kept pressing on his mouth. After nearly twenty more minutes and they began budge.

Blue groaned as two large white fangs finally slid over his teeth. His mouth was aching and his jaw hurt from having it open. They unstrapped him and took it off. Blue held his mouth in absolute agony, it hurt to touch anything.

Blue was ushered back to his cage once more. It was two more weeks before he ate anything else.

**n·i·e·b·i·e·s·k·i**

Blue realized his last days with his Master were approaching. They were letting up on tests, and just checking his vitals and other extremities. They had also bathed him and gave him his own room, with a slightly bigger cage. He was given clothes, but not like the people clothes that his Master wore. His was a bit messier, and still left him shivering at night They cleaned his teeth and cut his hair short, making him look presentable.

Finally, the day came where his Master entered the room with an unfamiliar man in tow. He was lean and had broad muscles. His hands were calloused and his eyes were dark. He had lightly tanned skin, showing that he hadn't been in the sun, but obviously wasn't a deathly pale like his master. He had a strange, rugged cut on the side of his face, that almost intimidated Blue. His knuckles were bruised bloody and black and brue, the evidence of a recent scuffle.

His Master walked over, and the man came behind him. Blue sat patiently in his cage, his eyes on the ground and hands clasped. "Good condition," The man noted, "An' young. S'he a fighter?"

"When he wants to be," His Master replied. "Set him straight and he'll do whatever you need."

"If he turns out weak, like that other one―"

"The last animal I sent was a bit of a fluke," His Master replied. "It won't happen again. Not with him. He's one of the strongest creations we have ever seen. Strength is a no-brainer. His durability is exceptional, endurance is on par to that of an Olympic athlete. If trained properly he could be a force to reckon with."

"Who else knows of him?"

"The staff is sworn to legal secrecy, of course. Other subjects, and the Providers, but they haven't seen him in six months ― probably wouldn't be able or recognize him in a few years."

The man sniffed, looking Blue up and down. "I want 'im shipped to my place. I can't have 'im on my plane."

"Of course," His Master conceded.

The man turned to his Master, his eyes narrowed, "And if this thin' is a ' _fluke_ ', _John_ , I won't hesitate to burn this place down, with _you_ inside." He poked his Master in the chest and Blue jumped, launching himself at the cage. He had to protect his Master at all costs ― that was his duty.

The man turned and raised an eyebrow at Blue's small, snarling form, his fangs glinting and dangerous. "Good reaction times," He noted, almost appraisingly. "Let's just hope you can keep it up." The man left without another word, and a minute later, so did his Master.

**b·l·o·u**

Blue sat alone in his cage as the door opened again. Two big burly men stepped in, dragging a crate behind them. Blue watched, slightly unsettled, as they picked his cage up, and dropped in the crate. It made a small thump, and Blue turned around, confused. He moved around, hitting the wall, seeing if he could knock the cage and the crate over.

His Master stepped in the view of the crate and Blue stopped moving. "You are being transferred to your next handler. Until you are returned back here, he will your new Master. If your Master dies or is compromised, you will return here and await instructions. Is that clear?" Blue nodded silently, looking back down. "And, don't die."

The two men put the top on the crate, leaving Blue in total darkness.

**b·l·u**

It had taken Blue a few hours to discover the water and food they had left in crate. It was in a squeezable bottle. Blue, being a thirsty, young child, seemed to forget that he was trapped in a crate with no way out. When he saw the bottle of water ― or, rather felt it as it had bumped against his leg ― he guzzled half of it down. They were never allowed to have that much water ― maybe a little here and there, but never that much.

After two days passed ― or at least seemed like two days ― with movement outside the box, but nobody making an attempt to look inside, Blue began to worry. He had ran out of water, and the food he was given was nearly gone. He didn't know where he was or when he would be let out ― if at _all_. He tried to call out, pushing against the side, but nobody heard anything. It didn't illicit anyone to investigate, or even check inside. Blue was trapped inside a box with no way out. If he tried to escape, his Master would find him and kill him, but if he stayed there, he might rot away.

Blue didn't like the idea of slowly dying ― he didn't like the idea of dying at all. Even during his trials, even when getting injected with thick substances that his Master told him would ' _make him stronger_ ', and ' _make him better'._

Blue never wished for death. He wanted to live and survive, despite the hours of agony he spent wailing and being in the throws of a bad injection. Even when Blue faced infection from being disciplined ― like the knife in his thigh and hand ― Blue still survived, and his Master marvelled at his resilience.

Blue did not want to die. Not in a cage or a crate or on a metal table or anywhere. Blue wanted to live, he wanted to go back home. He wanted to survive whatever his Master threw at him because Blue knew that if he lived, if he made his Master proud of him, maybe he would let him go back home. He wanted to see his Ma again and he wanted to hear her call him her 'baby Blue'. He wanted her to hold him and kiss him on the forehead and tell him that everything would be okay. Blue wanted all this so that when he came back, he could be able to get her the house he promised ― the big one with that the Pirates bought, He wanted to make his Ma happy, and in order to do that, he had to stay alive.

It had been nearly a week before the box was opened. Blue was lying on his back, tired and hungry. The first ray of light hit the side of the box, and Blue squinted, covering his eyes with his arm. All it took was five minutes for the top to be lifted and the box turned upside-down.

Blue let out a shout, hitting the cage and the asphalt roughly, He looked around, squinting and confused. A man behind him blew air out of his nose, bending down to lean into Blue's cage. Blue backed up as far as he could go, surprised. It was the same lightly tanned man as before, the one that threatened his Master. "Just in time, too. The event starts in 20. Get him ready."

"Yes, sir," The other men said. Someone opened the door, and someone else tilted the end corner where Blue was cowering.

He hit the ground and growled, moving to stand. "Where am I?" He demanded, and the other men immediately began pulling out weapons, pointing it at him. Blue looked at them, confused.

The man turned around, his dark eyes narrowed. "You don't ask questions 'round here," He growled, in a swift move, he grabbed Blue by the throat and held him to the wall. Blue gasped, clawing at his arm, trying to pull himself up ― trying to breathe. "I'm only going to say this _once_. If I have to 'gain, I won't wait to put a bullet in your head. You are _mine_ now ― you're my _property_ , you're my _dog_. You fight for _me_ , you do as I say, _when_ I say. _People_ get to ask questions, pets _don't_. You _aren't_ a person, you are a _dog_. Is that clear?"

Blue nodded quickly, his words reminded him of his old Master, and it scared him. " _Say it_."

Blue gasped, his eyes coming in and out of focus and tears fell from them. "Ye--Yes. . . M--Master." The man smirked and dropped him. Blue hit the ground, forehead first, his hands too slow to stop him. He coughed badly, rolling on his back, his nose bloodied and probably broken from the collision.

" _Master_ ," He mused, grinning. "I like the sound of that."


	5. 4 | Blue Buildings

**Chapter Four:**

Blue breathed, in and out. Steady and consistent, just as his Master taught him. Blue launched himself at the target in front of him. The dog snarled, and attacked back. Teeth bared and claws outstretched, they landed in a tangle on the stony floor. The crowd behind the metal grating roared with excitement. He bit at its arm, his fangs piercing the skin easily. It hissed, its claws scratching across his face.

Blue felt a sharp pain just above his eyelid ― far too close to his eye. He fell back, covering his bleeding face with a hand. The dog advanced, and Blue batted it off with a flailing arm. He could see his Master between the grating of the ring. His eyes set in a heavy glare. Blue felt shivers run down his back as it got back up.

He breathed, in and out. Steady and consistent. Failure wasn't an option. Not for him, not for his Master.

The dog ran at him again, ready to go for the kill. Blue put his arm out, letting it clamp down on his arm. He winced immediately, but let its fangs sink deep into his bone. Then, he grasped its jaw, with his hands, he pulled the animal's mouth apart, slowly.

Strength rippled through him, as the dog began to whimper, its top jaw unhinging from his mouth, but the bottom teeth stayed securely in place. Blue grunted, and yanked back hard. Instantly, the dog's mouth was split in two. It's blood was warm as sprayed across his arms, mixing with Blue's own blood and saliva.

The crowd's cheers was drowned out in Blue's ears as he stared at the dog that was crumpling at his feet. Blood oozed from it's skull and Blue could see bits of brain and muscle. The bone that was exposed was shattered and broken, a few pieces falling into the caved head of the expired animal.

Blue stared at it. He blinked slowly, and then turned away, moving to sit in his corner as someone stepped in and cleaned up the mess of the dead dog. The announcer blared on the speaker and Blue flinched, wanting to cover his ears with his palms. It was all so loud. It was all so bright. His arm felt numb and he didn't want to get up again, but he knew exactly what would happen if he didn't.

_A tight cord wrapping around his throat as Blue gagged clawing at his skin as someone shoved a electric prod in his back. Blue spasmed, tears escaping the edges of his eyes, He kicked and bucked, until his vision turned black his fingers stopped moving. Then, they let go, and the next dog was led in._

Blue watched as the next animal was led into the ring. A big brown dog growled angrily at him. The announcer continued to scream into the microphone. Blue looked down at his numbing and rapidly bleeding arm. Failure wasn't an option.

Blue breathed, in and out. Steady and consistent.

**m·a·v·i**

Blue flinched as his Master stalked back and forth across the room, angrily mumbling to himself. Occasionally, he would take a bottle of alcohol and throw it at the wall behind him, causing him to smell of the strong, smelly substance that stung his eyes and made glass stick into his skin.

Blue clutched his still bleeding arm, barely able to keep his eyes open enough to hear what his Master muttering to himself. "Five days. . . not enough. . . kill me if I don't get him. . . _Damn it_!" Blue heard the last one clearly because he yanked a bookshelf down, letting the contents crash against the wooden floorboards. Blue flinched again, the small movement gaining his Master's attention.

"I have a job for you," He said, and Blue sat as attentive as he could, straining his ears to continue to hear instead of the white-noise that was beginning to fill them. His Master was scribbling down something on a notepad, before tossing it at Blue. "Go to this address and kill the man who lives there. You have three hours."

Blue grabbed the paper off the ground, his bloody, dirty fingers smudging the writing slightly. "Ma. . . Master. . . arm―?"

"Then, get your fucking arm _fixed_!" He snapped, and Blue flinched. "I need him dead _tonight_."

"Yes Master," Blue said quickly, scrambling from the room. He went to the room directly beside his Master's office ― also where his Master kept several duffel bags full of cash.

Blue's cage was behind a few shelves, tucked deep and hidden. Blue crawled in ― slightly bigger than the one he came in ― and grabbed a small, dirty roll of bandages. He quickly began to wrap up his arm. He was bleeding in other places, but he didn't have enough bandages to cover the rest of his body. His arm was a priority, and it hurt the most.

As soon as Blue finished, he crawled back out of his cage and looked at the address in his hand. He knew how to read, but he didn't recognize the address. It must have been a far from where his Master was located. He pulled out the map that his Master had given when he went on his first mission. He searched the map for anything that he recognized on the address. He recognized New York, but not much of anything else.

Then, he saw ' _Brooklyn_ ' on the map. He recognized that, at least, and he knew how to get there.

Blue put the map in his pocket, and crawled out of his cage, stifling the temptation to lay down and sleep. He only had three hours, and it would take him about and hour or two to get there, but killing the man shouldn't be an issue. He'd do it quickly so he could come back here and sleep.

Blue went back to his Master's office, to climb out his window. The office was in the back of the building, convenient for him to quickly come in and out. He waited, turing to his Master, who was leaning against a wooden desk, his eyes narrowed, "Go." He ordered.

Blue jumped out the window and was gone.

**u·r·d·i·n**

Blue stared at the address on the bloody paper. _480 Rogers Avenue, Apt. 149, Brooklyn, New York_. Blue was lucky the apartment was adjacent to a mainstreet, or else it would've taken him forever to get to where he was.

Blue stared curiously at the building that was painted a light blue and glanced at the sides. He stepped up the steps and read the nametags on the buzzers. **149 ―** **G S**. All of the other letters to ' **G** **S** ' were faded away with time.

Blue looked at the building again, and then buzzed 140 ― **WNDY**. He watched and saw a light flick on in one of the buildings. He didn't wait to hear her speak.

Blue walked around the side of the building, watching and memorizing the floor where 149 was concerned. He walked around the side alley of the building, watching a few rats and rodents scurry away at his presence. The smell of rotting foods and left over junk attacked his senses, but Blue tried not to think about it.

Blue climbed on the dilapidated garbage can, and began to easily climb onto the building, his claws helping him hold leverage. His injured arm burned with every movement, but Blue didn't show it. He climbed to window 140 and counted silently, _141\. . . 142. . . 145. . . 149._

Blue climbed up to where a skinny ledge ran along the building, stepping carefully and silently. He slipped down over room 149, hanging there for a second before letting himself fall. He snatched the window ledge just before he fell down four stories. He swallowed and slowly pushed at the window. It didn't budge.

Blue huffed in annoyance, clawing at the window's edge with his free hand, slowly making a hand hold. When he was able to securely place his hand underneath, he pried the window off. He carried it inside and set it softly on the ground.

The room was silent, the air calm, but the exposed window allowed the sounds of the street and the insomnia-inducing city noise inside. Blue glanced around the empty room, a few glass pottery sat on shelves and the appliances neat on the granite countertops. The floors were wood and a few areas covered in a rug ― including the hall where Blue assumed was where the bedroom was too.

Blue stepped down the hall silently, watching for any kind of movement. He gently opened a door, which happened to be a small bathroom. He did another, and it was a closet full of toiletries.

The last one was closed. Blue tried the knob ― _locked_. He held it for a second and yanked, pulling the door off the hinges, breaking the lock.

What he didn't expect was for the door to be pushed against him, pinning him against the opposite wall.

Blue grunted, trying to slide out, but the man was ready, keeping the pressure constant. "Who are you? What do you want?" He sounded furious. Blue didn't have time to answer his questions. He needed to be dead in the next ten minutes ― if _that_.

Blue dropped to the ground, and the man stumbled. He used this to squeeze himself around the door, and punch the man in the jaw. He let the door go and raised his fist. He was fast, aiming for his throat. Blue caught his hand before he could hit him, but the force of the attack sent him back a few feet.

Blue was shocked, he had never met anyone with strength on par to his own. He didn't have time to marvel. He attack, going for the man's torso, and he blocked. Blue tried to scratch him, but the man was far faster, ducking under and around his attacks. The man's fists flew at him, and Blue narrowed dodged them. He stumbled into the broken frame of the bedroom just inches away from an attack that would've probably broken his nose ― or caved his face in.

Blue kick, hitting the man in the side of his face. The man grabbed his leg and reared back, throwing him hard into the wall.

Blue's back hit the wall and he landed on his bleeding arm. Blue let out a hiss, cradling his bleeding arm with his good one. Breath in, and out. Steady and consistent.

Failure wasn't an option.

The man walked over, grabbing his shoulder, raising him to the light to see face. Blue watched as his angry, predatory blue eyes softened and then turned to something akin to confusion. "You're. . . just a kid. . .?"

Blue attacked, his fangs sinking into the man's hand. He let out a hiss of pain, dropping him. He jumped wrapping his legs around the man's neck, cutting off his air supply.

The man struggled, falling on his back, trying to pull Blue off. Blue didn't move, keeping his hold constant. The man reached out for the drawer beside him, his hand digging in for a moment. Blue saw the glint of the knife in the bedroom's dim light before it was digging into his thigh.

Blue let out a whine, falling back, and holding his leg. He breathed heavily, his hands shaking as he yanked the knife out. The man turned around, and watched Blue carefully as he squeezed his eyes shut. Breath in. . . breath in and out. Steady and consistent.

His hands were shaking as he looked up at the man, who was staring at him. He had to kill him. Failure _wasn't_ an option.

Blue tried to climb to his feet, but his leg burned in pain. He let out another whine. His stomach was doing flips and he tried to breathe again. "Take it easy," The man warned stepping closer. Blue practically jumped back. His eyes darted around, looking for a way to escape. He couldn't stay here.

Blue tried to stand again, using the wall and holding the knife the man left in his thigh to him. His bloody hands smeared against the wall, accenting his struggle to stay standing. "You're hurt ― you can't leave. I need to take you to the hospital, okay?" Blue blinked, he didn't know what a ' _hospital_ ' was, but this man wasn't taking him anywhere.

Blue was fast. He darted for the door, limping as fast as he could. The man grabbed his arm as he stepped into the hallway, " _Wait_!" He stopped him. Blue tossed the knife to his other hand and immediately cut the back of his hand with his knife. The man's grip loosened and Blue continued to run. He jumped out the window with ease, his claws scraping down the side, easing his descent.

Blue took off as soon as he stumbled to the ground, limping as far and as fast as he could.

**с·і·н·і**

Blue didn't stop for hours, He got strange looks from passerby's ― mainly for the copious amounts of blood on his person ― but he wasn't stopped. He made it to his Master's hideout. With his leg, he couldn't climb up the side of the building like he would normally do.

Instead, he went around the back, and yanked the chain off that kept the door closed. Guns and weapons were brandished immediately, but Blue didn't pay any attention to it. He flopped on the ground, his eyes half-lidded and tired.

Someone yanked him up, and Blue hissed, curling up tighter. This didn't stop them. Two men carried him up the steps and dumped him on the ground of the office. He glanced up just in time to see his Master yank him to his feet. Blue hissed as soon as he put weight on his leg, gripping the crusted-over wound with his hands.

A sharp smack across his face made him fall back down. His Master was talking and Blue hadn't heard what the man was saying. " _Report_ , you stupid ball of shit!" He demanded, his dark, stormy eyes were focused on him.

"Still. . . ali―" Blue didn't even get to finish the words. His Master threw him on the floor, and Blue curled gasping in pain.

"Failure is _not_ an option!" His Master screeched above him. "Failure is _never_ an option! You _useless_ ―!" His Master kicked him, and Blue inhaled, his ribs already sore and body exhausted. "I should _shoot_ you right now!" His Master growled, yanking Blue up by his hand ― thankfully, it wasn't his bleeding one.

" _Please_ ―!" Blue begged, having trouble breathing. "Do better! Kill him --- ple--please don't―!" His Master hit him again. Then he grabbed his bleeding thigh and squeezing. Blue screamed, nearly fainting with pain.

"You're _not_ going to fail again," He growled in his ear. The heat of his breath made him shiver, his lip quivering and he tried not to let the tears gathering in his eyes slip down his cheeks. "Tomorrow morning ― you kill him. If you don't come back with his head, I'll _squeeze_ all of the blood out of you." To prove his point, he squeezed his leg again. The wound reopened and stained his leg. Blue gasped, whining loudly and biting his tongue.

"Ye--Yes, Master! _Yes_! Please! Ki--Kill him! Please!" Blue begged. His Master stared him in the eyes and slowly, let go. Blue let out a breath of relief, holding his throbbing thigh gingerly.

His Master raised his hand and Blue flinched, waiting to get hit. "I want him dead tomorrow," his Master reminded. Blue nodded quickly, and his Master huffed and wiped his hand on Blue's raggedy shirt. "Get outta my sight." Blue scampered away as fast and as far as possible.


	6. 5 | Blue Dogs

**Chapter Five:**

Despite being bone tired and suffering several injuries, Blue didn't sleep at all once he got to his cage.

He shivered, taking off his shirt and tearing it with his teeth. He used the dirty material to wrap up his leg, hissing whenever his fingers brushed it. Then, he checked his arm, seeing how much worse the bleeding had gotten. His entire bandage was stained and his arm was beginning to throb just as bad ― if not worse ― than his leg.

Blue carefully lied down and stared at the barred ceiling of his home. The only home he had known for the past ten years. His body ached and his shoulders still shook from his violent discussion with his Master.

Blue knew that he would be severely disciplined if he did not succeed on this mission. Blue looked at his hands ― small cuts from where his nails had drove into his palm when he was trying to punch the man. His knuckles were also a little bloody from that first strike. Disciplining wouldn't even be an option for Blue at this point. His Master was going to kill _him_ if he didn't kill this man.

Blue curled up. He didn't want to die, not here. He didn't want his Master to kill him ― if he did, it would be slow and painful. He would drag it out for hours, _days_ even. He would make Blue slowly bleed out, until he was frail and weak. He would laugh at him, drag him to the bottom of the sea, letting him drown slowly.

Blue whimpered, closing his eyes, fading into the surroundings around him. Slowly, his body began to blend in with his surroundings.

It was a trick he discovered a year back, and hadn't told his Master. He knew he should ― and he knew that if his Master found out he would be severely disciplined ― but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Blue had _one_ secret, _one_ thing he knew that his Master didn't. It made him feel. . . _weird_. His stomach would twist and he felt. . . _giddy_.

Eventually, Blue decided that he would simply keep it to himself ― it wasn't hurting him in any way that he knew. And, when he went to go to get check-ups once every six months, if the doctor, his old Master, found out, then he would pretend that he hadn't known at all.

Blue breathed through his nose, his eyes fluttering closed. He was so _exhausted_. He swallowed hard, breathing in and out. Steady and consistent. But, Blue couldn't bring himself to actually fall asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear his Master in his ears.

_"I'll squeeze all of the blood out of you."_

Blue shivered, letting out a moan when he twisted his arm the wrong way. The time seemed to fly by because one of his Master's men kicked his cage. "Get up, You gotta fight tonight."

Blue rubbed his weary eyes, feeling the exhaustion in his limbs as he slowly crawled out, standing on shaking legs. Every step burned with pain as he followed the man to the basement. The group of men cheered loudly. There had to be at least fifty, maybe sixty. A lot more than usual.

Blue looked around, confused as a man shoved him forward. That was when he saw it. In the ring, was a dog. Blue stared, assessing the animal, if he could even call it that.

This thing — this _beast_ — was _huge._ Limbs packed with muscle, its eyes were a pure white. Its teeth were so big, they couldn't even fit in its _mouth_. It was being held back by not one, not two, but _five leashes_ ― and even _those_ seemed to be straining.

It was snarling at everything and everyone. If the metal mesh hadn't been bolted to the ground, Blue believed that this monster of a animal would've killed each and every one of the men.

Blue stared at the behemoth of an animal. He looked over where his Master sat, watching smugly. He was being disciplined. Blue swallowed, carefully shuffling towards the ring, his hands shaking by his side. The announcer opened the door, and Blue saw what almost looked like pity for him in his eyes.

Blue swallowed again.

The man began to speak, but Blue wasn't listened. He eyed the beast, who seemed to go crazed with anticipation as soon as Blue entered the ring. His arm and leg was still injured, and Blue wondered if the beast knew that ― he hoped it didn't.

The familiar whistle sounded and one by one, all five of the leashes were released. However, once it got down to three left, the beast leapt, drawing it from the handler's grip. Blue jumped in surprise, barely managing to dodge the huge, dangerous fangs of the animal.

He turned on his heel, kicking it square in the side with all his strength. This only made the animal angry. He snarled, his teeth downing on his leg. Blue jumped back, it just skimmed him, and he landed on his bad leg. He winced, but rolled away when the beast jumped again. Blue forgot about the metal rods still attached to the animal's neck, and one managed to hit him square in the head.

Blue's head snapped back and he cried out in pain, just as the animal jumped on his back. His claws dug into his skin and his teeth in his shoulder. Blue let out another scream, immediately flipping the beast on its back, managing to get the animal off of his shoulder.

The beast jumped back up, snapping at Blue's body, its claws flailing, landing a sharp, scratch down the side of his leg. Blue clasped his hands together, swinging it into the beast's face. It hit it's mark and Blue heard a sharp crack.

The animal stumbled a bit and let out a intimidating growl. Blue replied with one of his own, baring his fangs, ready to attack. Blue got to his feet and the animal ran at him again. Blue waited until it was right in front of him. Then, he moved out of the way, letting it run into the metal mesh.

The people on the other side jumped away in surprise. Blue wrapped his arms around the beast's neck. It snarled and thrashed in Blue's grip, but he held tight, coiling his arms tighter. The beast was beginning to weaken, his movements slowing and struggling beginning to cease.

That is, before it bit right into his injured thigh.

Blue felt the teeth sink into the flesh of his skin and let out a scream, the tender skin already burning with an unheard fury. But, he didn't let go. Ten seconds later, the infernal animal sinked under his weight. Blue pulled his leg out of it's massive jaw and slowly dragged himself away. Around him the people screamed.

Blue was gasping, his hands shaking as he gently touched the bleeding wound. His shoulder sent hot pains through his body too and Blue squeezed his eyes shut. Then, he heard growling and people shouting ― but it wasn't cheers.

Blue looked up to see the entire snout and front-side of the beast drenched in someone's drink. On the other side of the metal mesh of the ring, people were shouting. Drunken, intoxicated fighters began to throw their fists at each other, shouting slurred insults. It was _chaos_ , and nobody was watching Blue or the beast anymore.

Inside the ring, the beast stirred, awoken by the man's drink ― and now the sounds of the fight. Its eye opened and fell on Blue. Blue felt his heart skip as he heard it growl. He couldn't run. He could hardly fight.

"Help," He squeaked, looking around for anyone who was still watching them. The beast got to its feet, its growling getting louder. "Help ― _please_!" His eyes fell on his Master, who seemed to be the only one watching.

And the man was smirking darkly, his teeth shown and his eyes narrowed. Blue wanted to cry, looking at the sour expression on his face. This wasn't a fight, his Master knew he was injured and tired. This was discipline. His Master was teaching him a lesson.

And seeing the look on his face, it was certainly one he would never forget.

The beast growled and launched itself at Blue. He raised his arms in defense, and it's teeth sank into his forearms, and Blue let out another cry of pain. The animal sank its teeth in deeper and shook its face as if Blue were merely a squeaky toy. Blue tried kicking it, but it's muscles were clenched and unable to be penetrated.

Blue gasped, in and. . . in and. . . in and. . .

Finally, he heard a gunshot, and the animal growled, releasing Blue from his jaws, and turning for the shooter. Another gunshot, and the animal collapsed on its feet.

Blue sat there, shaking. _In and in and in and in and in and―_

Someone stepped in, dragging Blue out. Blue whined loudly, pain shooting through him from all him. The men around him argued and spat, probably for the money they had lost.

Blue got one last glimpse of his Master. He was grinning.

**p·l·a·v·a**

Blue waited outside of the building of the man he needed to kill. His hands were shaking, his eyes coming in and out of focus. He stared at the door, hardly blinking, hardly breathing.

His arms, shoulder, and legs were bandaged as well as he could get them. He lost a lot of blood, but to complain would be equivalent to a death wish now. He hadn't slept in hours, and after nearly dying, Blue wasnt sure he wanted to. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the crazed frantic look of the beast's. And, if it wasn't the beast's, it was his Master's. The dark eyes that loomed over him, the knowing smirk that teased his lips.

Blue swallowed, no. He didn't get to sleep at all.

Finally, after hours of waiting, his target stepped out of his house. He stopped, looking around for a minute, before starting to jog down the sidewalk.

Blue pulled the hoodie he stole up over his head. It covered his bandaged firearms and face. His Master still wasn't. . . _satisfied_ with his performance in the Ring.

Blue kept his eyes down as he followed the jogging target. The man nodded to a few people as he passed. Blue stayed on the opposite end of the street ― limping slightly and giving a low growl to whoever looked his way. He didn't have time for distractions. He would die if he didn't kill this man.

For nearly twenty minutes, he followed his target as he jogged. That is, until he came to a path to a park and turned the corner, a few thick trees hindering Blue's sight. Blue followed him, but as soon as he stepped on the path, the man was gone.

Blue frowned, looking around confused. Then, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to react, but was met with a sudden blunt object and push him to the ground.

Blue's shoulder struck the pavement with a crack and he let out a sharp scream, gripping the offending limb, trying to crawl away. " _Stop_!" The man ordered. Instinctively, Blue obeyed, looking down submissively, before realizing that he was supposed to be killing this man.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the knife and tried to stand, but someone came behind him, twisting his arms behind his back --- his injured one.

Blue's eyes went wide and he screamed, pain spreading through him and his body shaking. " _Stop! Stop! Stop! Please! Stop!_ " He begged, tears coming to his eyes. His eyes rolled into his head, and he tried to breathe. In and out. In and out. In and― In and out.

"Stop, let him go, Nat," Steve said, and suddenly he was released. Blue crumpled to the ground, holding his freshly bleeding shoulder, his eyes screwed shut. He tried to breathe, but they were coming in short pants. His shoulder _throbbed_ \--- god it hurt so much, he thought he was going to die.

Blue's lip quivered and a few tears slipped down his face. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Blue shook his head and moved away, bumping into the legs of the woman who was still behind him. Blue cowered, trying to breathe. In - out. In - out. In - out.

Was this man going to discipline him? Was he going to squeeze all his blood out? Or, twist his arm so bad that he fainted from the pain and blood loss? Would this man kill him?

"Hey, look over here," The man said, waving a hand in his face. Blue noticed the white bandage on his hand where Blue bit him. "Hey there. Are you injured? Do you need help?"

"He tried to _kill you_ , Steve," the woman, Nat, frowned.

"He's a kid. Look at him ― he's terrified." Blue's eyes darted around, looking for an escape. No, no escaping ― he had to kill him.

Blue lunged, trying to attack the man, but the woman was faster. She yanked him back by his collar, and he fell on his back. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "He's scared," The man supplied. "Just ― dart him. We need to get out of here before people start showing."

The woman shook her head, sighing, "You're _insane_ ," She scoffed, but did as he ordered. He felt a sharp prick in his neck. Blue raised a hand, pulling out a small dart. He started at it for a few seconds, blinking, his eyebrow furrowed. " _Wha_. . .?" She murmured, shocked, but Blue didn't get to hear the rest as he slumped forward, eyes rolling in his skull.


	7. 6 | Blue Words

**Chapter Six:**

Blue struggled to open his eyes. They felt heavy, as if someone had taped them down ― again.

He panicked, raising his hands, only to find them not able to be moved. The familiar clink of metal hitting metal brought tears to his eyes. He whined loudly struggling the bed, breathing in and in and in and in―

"Hey there, calm down, don't worry," Someone said, coming beside him. He felt something tug at his eyes, and he panicked, pulling himself away and flinching. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to make sense of the situation. "It's okay, calm down. Your bandages fell down over your eyes ― can I move them out of the way for you?" Blue tried to breathe in and out. In and out. In and out.

He gave a reluctant nod, and he heard the person moving again. Gently, fingers brushed against his eyes, moving a few layered bandages out of his line of sight.

Blue winced, squinting through the brightly lit room. He blinked, unable to rub at his eyes. He looked, and saw the man he was supposed to kill leaning over him. He was close enough to smell him — apples and seawater. Blue jumped away, his arm that was still latched to the side of the bed burned, and he hissed. "Don't worry ― I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to ask you some questions, okay?" Blue shook his head fiercely. "Can we start out with names? I'm Steve. What's yours?" Blue shook his head again, and the man frowned.

Blue flinched, tugging away again. His heart was pounding, and sweat building up on his brow. "I want to help you, kid," Steve said gently. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to know what happened ― you didn't look like that when you left the other day. What happened? Who did that to you?"

Blue shook his head, and the man sighed, "You don't have to tell me your real name. Do you have a nickname, or something?"

Blue frowned, " _Nickname_?"

"Yeah, you know. . ." Steve struggled to explain it. "A shorter version of your name. Something someone else calls you."

Blue frowned for a second, thinking, "Ball of shit," He replied and the man's eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed.

" _Uh_. . ." Steve rubbed his head, "No, not like that. It's, uh. . ." He pursed his lips, "How about this, the first two letters of your name? Can you tell me that?"

Blue frowned, he only had four letters in his name. " _B_ ," He finally said, and Steve nodded.

"B. That's a start. Okay, B," He smiled, "I'm Steve." Steve paused for a minute, then gave Blue a easy smile — Blue didn't trust it. "I know you were trying to kill me, the other night," Blue flinched, sinking into the bed. "But, I don't believe that you meant to do it. Did someone tell you to kill me?" Blue swallowed and gave a small nod. "Can you give me their name?"

Blue shook his head, eyes filling with panic. "Okay," Steve drawled, "Why not?"

"No. Master. . ." He swallowed, thinking about last night's disciplining.

_The large animal breathing over him, his teeth sinking into his arms. His blood staining the animal's teeth, it's white eyes crazed and dangerous. It's stiff breath breathing down his front, smelling of dead carcasses and raw meat._

  
"Hey, B? Are you with me?" Blue blinked, staring at Steve, who was watching him carefully. "You said ' _Master_ ', what do you mean?"

"My Master," Blue replied, confused. What did he mean, ' _what did he mean his Master'_?

"What do you mean by that?" His eyes squinted. "Is. . . he _related_ to you? Why do you call him that?"

"He Master," Blue replied.

"How? How is he your Master? That makes you sound like a―" Steve stopped talking, staring wide-eyed at Blue. "He. . . _oh_. . ." Steve looked him over again, "He did. . . this to you, B?"

Blue shook his head, "Big dog," he replied, shaking his arms for emphasis.

"How did a dog do this to you? Did anyone stop it?"

"No. Drink ― fight," Blue replied. "Dog fight me." Blue moved his arms, shoulder and thigh. Then, he paused and made a correction. "You fight me."

Steve winced, "I'm. . . Sorry, I–I, uh," he rubbed his neck. "I didn't. . . I _shouldn't_ have done that. That was my fault. Bruce check it, right? He made sure it wasn't infected?" Blue blinked, and Steve nodded, "Oh, right. Don't answer that." He gently scooter over to see his leg.

Blue kicked his legs, panic filling him again, and Steve backed away. "Sorry. Getting ahead of myself." Blue slowly began to relax and he cleared his throat. "How old are you, B?"

Blue shook his head. "No."

"Do you remember what year you were born?"

Blue frowned. "19. . . 1998?"

Steve's mouth opened again, but he closed it and sighed. " _Sixteen_. Where does. . . your ' _Master_ ' live, can you tell me?" Blue shook his head, "Can you tell me his name?" He shook his head again. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

Blue frowned, considering this. "He tall. Messy face. Big. Eyes dark."

"Anything else? Like a scar or something?"

"Messy face," Blue replied.

". . . Okay, I get it. Messy, like scarred?" Blue didn't know what he meant. "Take it as a yes. What does he do? Where does he live?"

Blue shook his head, "No."

"Why did he do this to you?"

"No kill. Bad. Fail no," Blue replied, remembering the stern words of his Master.

_"Failure is not an option! Failure is never an option!"_

 

_". . . Squeeze all of the blood out of you."_

  
Blue shivered, and tried to lunge at Steve, who quickly moved away. His eyes were panicked, and his arms shaking. "Kill you," he breathed. "Have to. He kill me."

"You don't have to kill anyone," Steve rose his hands. "Your Master can't get you here." Blue shook his head, trying to hit him again. His fangs slid over his teeth and his eyes were desperate.

"B, you _don't_ have to hurt me," Steve said. "You don't have to do any of that. Your Master isn't here. He can't hurt you." Blue shook his head disbelievingly. "Your Master made you try to kill me ― he's doing it now too. You don't have to listen to him. You can decide yourself. Do you wanna kill me?"

Blue stared at the man. Then he swallowed and looked down. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to kill anyone. He never wanted to kill anyone. He just wanted to lie down and sleep. He wanted to be left alone. But, he knew that if he didn't his Master would him. He'll make him bleed out slowly. He'd put him in the ring with another beast like the last time ― but this time, he wouldn't shoot it.

"Do you?" Steve asked and Blue slowly shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. He closed them and looked away from the man. "Good. Me neither. If you promise you won't try to kill me, I'll take those off," Blue looked back at Steve, who motioned to the cuffs on his arms. Blue nodded and Steve smiled warmly. "Good." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key.

A minute later, but his wrists were released. Blue drew his hands to his chest, rubbing his wrists. He tried not to think about the old scars on them from being chained down before. The cold metal that dug into his skin, sometimes cutting it shallowly. The way that him struggling only made it worse. The fact that he did it anyway.

"―Food?" Blue blinked, looking up. "I said, do you want some food?" Blue nodded immediately. He hadn't had the chance to eat in a while, and his kibble bowl in his cage was practically empty. It only got refilled every two weeks.

Steve smiled, "I'll be back," he said, standing, but Blue sat up quickly.

"No! No! Please!" He begged, and Steve sat back down.

"What's wrong?" He asked, confused.

"Stay ― no leave. _Please_ ― no leave," Blue begged. He didn't know what would happen if Steve left. He didn't know who else might come through the door and try to hurt him. Would Steve let them hurt him? Would he care?

"You don't want to be alone?" Steve asked, and Blue nodded. "You can come with me, but. . . you might have to use crutches for your leg."

Blue looked at his injured leg. "Leg fine," Blue said.

"It's not," He frowned. "If you don't want to be left alone, you have to use crutches, okay?" Blue bit his lip and nodded. He didn't know what the crutches were.

Steve stood, but he didn't go for the door. He went to the closet instead, searching and muttering to himself. Finally, he pulled out a strange metal thing. It was tall and almost looked like a skinny _Y_ , had there not been a bar in between and a padded top.

Steve looked at Blue, frowning a bit, and fiddled with the bottom, making it click a few times. Finally, he handed it to Blue. " _There_!" He smiled and handed it to Blue.

Blue held it awkwardly, experimentally touching the bottom and the clickers. "Oh, ah, let me show you," Steve said, after realizing that Blue had no clue how to use it. He waved Blue over to the edge of the bed, and gently put the crutch under his good shoulder. His forearms still burned in pain whenever he moved it, but he could live with that. "You're usually supposed to use the other side, but that might cause more damage and pain."

Steve stepped back, "Now, walk. Put your weight on your right leg." Blue did as he was told, standing and putting his weight on his right leg and tried to walk.

He immediately fell down.

Blue scrambled to get back up, his leg burning when his knee hit the tiled floor. "It's okay, I'll help you," Steve said, putting out a hand to show his support. Blue immediately flinched, despite knowing that Steve wasn't going to hurt him. Steve frowned, but didn't take his hand back.

Slowly, Blue gave the man his hand, and he helped him back to his feet. "Try again," Steve encouraged. Blue watched the man, a bit curious ― and concerned. When his Master was teaching him something, if he didn't get it right the first two or three times, his Master would discipline him. Steve didn't even seem a bit set off by Blue's mistake.

Blue stepped again, doing at Steve told him. He got three steps before the crutch slipped under him and he began to fall again. Steve was right behind him, catching his shoulder before he fell. "Good job! You got far!" Steve praised. Blue couldn't help his look of shock at his words. "What's wrong?"

"' _Good job_ '?" He repeated. He knew what it meant, but he never really heard the words said to him before.

"Yeah, good job. You did it correctly. Do you think you can get to the door?" It took Blue a second to process the unfamiliar praise. He nodded and continued to walk, stopping at the door and waiting for Steve.

Steve grinned at him and opened it. Blue stayed near the wall as Steve led the way to food and eating.


	8. 7 | Blue Foods

**Chapter Seven** :

Blue and Steve walked slowly down the halls, Blue sometimes tripping and Steve helping to steady him or help him back up. Once they had gotten to the kitchen, Blue was about ready to fall on his face. The only thing that stopped him, was the sight of the kitchen.

It was open and huge. There was a long counter top space with a huge refrigerator. The stove had eight lighters, and the cabinets were massive, probably two times as big as the ones at home.

There was no walls separating the kitchen and across from it was a long, black couch ― Blue had only seen a couch in his Master's office, and he never sat on it. There was a small table and a huge television across from it. On the side, was a open hallway, and Blue didn't have a clue where it led, and a silver elevator, if Blue was correct. Or, an escalator. He always got the two mixed up.

There was huge windows as high as the ceiling, but they were tinted black. Blue could still see out of them, and when he saw the tops of other skyscrapers, he nearly fainted.

They were so high up ― _how_ were they so high up? It felt. . . unnatural to Blue, and it made him queasy to think about it. To think about falling from this high up. He wouldn't even have a chance.

Blue blinked, rubbing his eyes and swallowing hard. He breathed, in and out, and focused his attention on something else.

Steve was in the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of the cabinets. Blue watched silently as he began to assemble what looked like a sandwich. Blue knew what that was ― his Master would sometimes have him make him one, if he wasn't doing anything else.

Blue stood near the countertop, his body wanting to sit down in the tall chairs, but he knew better to even look at them, much less touch it. He didn't even touch the counter. That was a person thing, and he wasn't a person. If his Master even heard that he so much as breathed on something as expensive and elegant as that, he would have his tail.

Steve finally finished and pushed the plate to him. Blue blinked, why was he giving the sandwich to him? He thought he was making it for himself. "Go ahead and eat."

Blue shook his head, "No," He pushed the plate back to Steve. Maybe the man was confused ― maybe he didn't get all of the air back to his head when Blue tried to suffocate him.

Steve frowned, now they both were confused. "You need to eat, B," Steve said, pushing the plate back to him. "You said you were hungry."

"No ― eat," Blue tried to explain to the man, waving a hand at the sandwich. "People food."

"What do you mean, ' _people food_ '? B, you _are_ a person, and you need to eat."

Blue shook his head, he couldn't eat this. "You person. Me, no." It had been ingrained in him for nearly a decade. Blue _wasn't_ a person. Blue could never _be_ a person. Sandwiches were people food, kibble was Blue food. Couches were person things, cages were Blue things.

It was simple, he thought it was universal. Why would this man try to give him something he knew Blue couldn't eat. Blue _wasn't_ a person, it was obvious. His master and the doctor had told him so explicitly. _People_ didn't sleep in cages. _People_ didn't fight dogs. _People_ didn't go on missions for their Masters.

"Me no. Me no person," Blue continued, trying to explain it to Steve, who looked absolutely bewildered. "Me _animal_. Me dog."

"You. . . you _aren't_ a dog, B," Steve said, carefully. "You're a person too." Blue shook his head, why didn't this man understand? He had just told him!

Steve rubbed his face, "Okay, well, then what _do_ you eat, if you're not a person."

"Kibble." Steve inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide. Blue drew back, trying to steady himself on the crutch before he could fall again.

"Yo–You eat _dog food_!?" Steve practically shouted. Blue flinched, taking another hesitant step back. "Sorry," Steve said softly. He rubbed his face, turning his eyes to the ceiling. He breathed, a long in, and then out again. " _Sorry_ ," He apologized again, but Blue didn't quite know what he was apologizing for. His Master's never apologized to him ― nobody did. Why was Steve saying ' _sorry_ ' now?

"Look," Steve said after a long silence. "We, ah, don't have any. . . dog food here, so you'll just have to eat this, alright?" Blue shook his head, but Steve didn't look like he was going to change his mind on this one. "You're going to eat this ― _period_."

Blue swallowed hard, looking down at the innocent sandwich. "Master. . . he―"

"Your ' _Master_ ' isn't here right now," Steve said simply, his tone curling around the word, ' _master_ '. "He can't dictate what you do. I want you to eat this sandwich, but if you don't that's up to you. Granted, you'll be hungry, but nobody's going to force you to eat. Nobody's going to feed you dog food either."

Blue looked from the sandwich and back up at Steve, who was waiting patiently. He wasn't angry, at least not from what Blue could see. He was simply watching Blue, waiting.

His stomach growled and Blue winced slightly. He was really hungry. If Steve was telling the truth and his Master wasn't here. . . he couldn't discipline him.

Blue took a shaky breath, grabbing the slice of bread off the top, and nibbling on the corner. His mouth salivated as his fangs fell out. Blue began to shove the bread in his mouth, eating it layer by layer. He never tasted anything so good before.

When Blue finished ― which was less than a minute later ― he was still ravishly hungry. If anything, the sandwich just made him hungrier than usual. Blue moved away, keeping his eyes down, he didn't know if he was allowed to ask for another one. Was it like with his Master, where he was only fed once every two weeks? Would Blue only get a sandwich every two weeks? He didn't think he'd be able to ration something that tasted so good.

Steve was moving in the kitchen again, and it took Blue a minute to realize he was making another sandwich. He waited warily, but when Steve pushed the sandwich at him, he dove in. He scrounged every last bite, his shoulders shaking in silent delight. The plate was left with just crumbs when Blue finished, and he saw Steve move around again, making him another sandwich. His eyes filled with tears, he hadn't had this much to eat in years.

Blue gave a shaky huff as Steve pushed the third sandwich towards him, and ate it just as quickly as the others. "That'll be all for now," Steve said. "I don't want to give you too much ― you might get sick." Blue blinked, frowning. You can get sick from eating _too much_ food.

He licked his lips, tasting the remnants of meat and sauces on them. "Thank. . . Thank you," He whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Steve smiled and he took the plate, "My pleasure," He grinned. "Did that taste better than dog food?" Blue nodded quickly and Steve laughed. Steve filled up a glass of water, setting it in front of Blue. He gently nudged it forward as he did with the rest of the food.

Blue was hesitant to drink it, but remembered what Steve said earlier about the sandwich before he ate that. He grabbed the cup, making the water slosh over the sides slightly, and downed it. "B, where are you from?" Steve asked curiously.

Blue thought for a moment, he wasn't telling Steve where his Master's hideout was, if he just said the city. "Hell Kitchen," He replied, remembering the circled area on the map his Master gave him.

_"This is the city we're in. Whenever you finish a mission, come back here. Do you understand?"_

Steve nodded, "What's your mother's name?"

Blue blinked at him. " _Mother_?" He repeated, looking at his hands. He forgot about his mother. He forgot what she looked like. But, he remembered stories about pirates and big houses and brownies.

Blue blinked, what _was_ a brownie? He remembered them being rectangular and. . . well, brown, but otherwise, he forgot.

"B?" Steve caught his attention. "You didn't answer my question."

"What brownie?" He asked suddenly, wanting to get an answer. It was important to him, but he didn't know why.

Steve rose an eyebrow at the sudden question, "Oh, well. . . brownies are a kind of dessert. Why do you ask?"

Blue looked at his hands again. "Liked brownies," He murmured. He couldn't even remember what it tasted like. How could he like it?

"Most people do," Steve replied. "Do you remember your mother's name? Or, your father's?"

"Ma. . ." Blue whispered. He remembered distant people calling his Ma's name when they she brought him over someone's house. "Ms. Nichelle," He said. He knew he was right, but the words ― the name ― sounded so foreign. Like he had just spoken another language.

"Your dad's name?" Blue shook his head, he knew he had no clue who his father was. "That's okay. Do you know how long you've been with your Master, B?"

Blue knew this one. "Ten years," he said, not having to hesitate or think. Steve's face went a bit pale.

"Ten. . . _years_ ," He repeated, shocked. Blue nodded, was Steve okay? " _Jesus_ ," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Okay, ah. . . do you know _why_ your Master wanted to kill me?" Blue shook his head. He was getting a bit tired after eating three sandwiches. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy and he struggled to stay upright ― even with his crutch. "Did someone ask him to do it?" Blue frowned, remembering his Master pacing in his office, muttering to himself.

He nodded. "Who?" Blue shook his head. "I'm going to show you a picture, can you tell me if you recognize it?" Blue nodded and Steve pulled out a cellphone. Blue watched mesmerized as he began to type on it. He rarely got to see the practically magical device, and of course, he's never tried it himself.

Steve tapped and clicked a few times before showing Blue a strange picture of what looked like mutated snake. He had seen one, when he was with the doctor. It was three cages down from his. It only lived for a few days before they killed it.

Blue had never seen what Steve was showing him, not that he remembered. He shook his head, and Steve pursed his lips. "Okay, I'm going to show you another picture, can you tell me if you recognize that?" Blue nodded and Steve tapped his phone for a few more seconds. Then, he showed Blue a picture of a silver bird. It was simple, but didn't actually have any other features of the animal except for the wings and the head.

Blue has never seen that picture before. He shook his head. Steve nodded, biting his lip. "Hmm. . ." he murmured to himself, thinking. Blue breathed slowly through his nose, trying to keep himself awake despite his wobbly crutches. His head lolled slightly, but his eyes were alert.

Steve noticed, "Are you tired?" He asked and Blue looked away, "It's okay. You can go lie down on the couch."

Blue got a panicked look in his eyes, " _Person thing!_ " He exclaimed, and Steve frowned.

"You're a person too, B. Remember?" Blue didn't believe him, but Steve wasn't budging. "Go lie down. We're done with questions for now, okay?"

Blue gave a hesitant look, but managed to make his way over to the leathery couch, doing as he was told. He stared at the glistening bright leather, and gave it an experimental tap. It was softer than he imagined and his hand felt like it was going to sink right through. He touched it again, letting his hand stay for a second, and watched as the couch deepened, his hand leaving a mark on its surface.

Blue heard muttering and looked up, Steve was in the kitchen still, watching him with slightly amused eyes. Blue quickly did as he was told, lying down on the couch, pulling his legs to his chest. As soon as he closed his eyes, the last few days of exhaustion took what it was due, and he was out.


	9. 8 | Blue Cells

**Chapter Eight:**

" _People_ _things_ ," Natasha muttered into his ear, disgusted. Steve watched B's reluctance to even touch the couch with pity. B touched it, fascinated how his finger sank into the leather. Then, he tried his whole hand, his fascination only increasing. Steve chuckled, and the boy jumped, moving to lie down on the couch. He saw B wince slightly at the sudden movement, but he didn't try to get back up.

" _It's_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _really_ _hard_ _to_ _break_ _that_ _kind_ _of_ _'Master-Slave'_ _mindset_ _,_ " Clint said. Steve turned, going to the coffee machine and began to brew himself a pot of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need something like that today. " _Ten_ _years_ _of_ _conditioning_ _. If_ _he's_ _been_ _there_ _for_ _ten_ _years_ _,_ _then_ _he_ _started_ _when_ _he_ _was_ _six_."

" _Uh,_ _am_ _I_ _the_ _only_ _one_ _who_ _saw_ _those_ _huge_ _fangs_ _?!_ " Tony asked, his tone bewildered and interested. " _Because_ _that_ _is_ _something_ _to_ _talk_ _about_ _. I_ _mean_ _,_ _they_ _came_ _out_ _of_ _his_ _gums_ _! Like_ _an_ _actual_ _vampire_ _!_ "

" _Actually_ ," Bruce cut in. " _His DNA_ _results_ _shows_ _differently_ _. I've_ _seen_ _those_ _kind_ _of_ _physical_ _mutations_ _before_ _,_ _but_ _that_ _was_ _egg_ _splicing_ _and_ _adding_ _the_ _extra_ _commodities_ _that_ _the_ _scientist_ _desires_ _before_ _the_ _embryo_ _is_ _born_."

"That isn't what happened here?" Steve asked, listening to the coffee drizzle softly into the thermal-glass pot. The strong aroma of the drink beginning to permeate the air.

" _No. It's. . . a_ _bit_ _different_ _. When I_ _took_ _his_ _blood_ _, I. . . I_ _didn't_ _recognize_ _the_ _blood_ _type_."

Steve frowned, "What?"

" _That's_ _not_ _possible_ ," Natasha said.

" _That's–That's_ _what_ _I_ _thought_ ," Bruce said, sounding a little excited. " _Until I realized_ _that_ _he_ _doesn't have a human_ _blood_ _type_ _. It_ _was_ feline."

"Feline?" Steve repeated, shocked. The pot behind him beeped twice in succession. He glanced over at B, who was sleeping silently. He exhaled, but didn't wake up.

Steve grabbed the pot, pouring himself a cup. " _Well,_ _it_ _was_ _more_ _of_ _a mix_ _of_ _both, which_ _is_ _why I couldn't identify_ _it_ _. I traced_ _it_ _back_ _,_ _and_ _. . . well. ._." Bruce trailed off, taking a breath, and Steve took a sip of his coffee. " _He's part Snow Leopard_."

Steve nearly choked, setting the cup down with a sharp ' _clink_!' against the marble countertop. He quickly looked at B, who merely turned in his sleep, unmoved. " _That's_ _not_ _possible_!" Tony exclaimed. " _To make_ _physical_ _changes_ _to_ _him_ _, they'd have_ _to_ _add or subtract chromosomes from_ _his_ _DNA. To do_ _that_ _after_ _he_ _was_ _born_ _. . . they'd have_ _to_ _change_ _the_ _genetic makeup_ _of_ _every single cell_ _in_ _his_ _body! That's impractical_!"

" _I know_ ," Bruce agreed. " _But. . . well,_ _here_ _he_ _is_ _. I do have a theory. He has a form_ _of_ _. . . cancer_."

"Cancer?" Steve repeated, his eyes widening. "Is he gonna die?"

" _Yes,_ _and_ _no,_ _he_ _won't, I think. But, it's. . . well_ _it_ _, uh_ ," He heard the scientist sigh. " _It's_ _was_ _intentionally administered_ _to_ _him_ _. Someone gave_ _him_ _this_ _. . . cancer,_ _and_ _kept_ _him_ _under close watch_ _to_ _see_ _how_ _he_ _would reac_ t."

 _"I don't understand_ ," Clint said, just as confused as Steve was. " _He has cancer?"_

" _Yes. Kind_ _of_ _. It's a non-fatal_ _type_ _of_ _cancer ― I think. I looks_ _like_ _he_ _was_ _periodically injected_ _with_ _the_ _cells_ _of_ _this_ _snow leopard. Usually,_ _the_ _body would immediately reject_ _something_ _like_ _that_ _,_ _but_ _something_ _must've went wrong along_ _the_ _way because instead_ _of_ _rejecting_ _it_ _,_ _his_ _body assimilated_ _the_ _cells. Cancer cells usually grow_ _in_ _a few place_ _and_ _continue_ _to_ _build_ _up_ _,_ _kind_ _of_ _like_ _a clog_ _in_ _a sink drain. That's where you_ _get_ _tumors from, right? But,_ _with_ _B, hi–_ _his_ _cells, these animal cells,_ _when_ _they_ _entered_ _his_ _system,_ _they_ _began_ _to_ _spread_ _out_ _, creating deformities all_ _over_ _his_ _body. It's almost as if_ _he's_ _a walking, talking tumor ―_ _and_ _he_ _hasn't_ died."

Bruce let out a shocked laugh. " _It's fascinating,_ _really_ _. He has no human cells ― no natural, original cells ―_ _in_ _his_ _body. And--And_ _when_ _his_ _body finally finished_ 'evening' _everything_ _out_ _,_ _when_ _he_ _became completely infected_ _with_ _this_ _cancer,_ _he_ _began_ _to_ _develop_ _different_ _, ah,_ _physical_ _deformities. That's where_ _his_ _fangs_ _come_ _in_ _. I, honestly, wouldn't_ _be_ _surprised if_ _he_ _had_ _other_ _abilities_ _he_ _hasn't discovered or_ _didn't_ _tell us._ "

" _So. . ._ _they_ _genetically mutated_ _his_ _DNA without_ _splicing_ _his_ _embryo_ ," Tony said, with an equal amount of wonder. " _That. . . that's amazing._ "

" _That's_ terrifying," Natasha corrected. " _And,_ _it_ _sounds painful._ "

" _Oh,_ _it_ _must've_ _been_ ," Bruce agreed. " _That_ _kind_ _of_ _regrowth_ _on_ _a cellular level must've taken months. If a single thing_ _had_ _gone wrong, if_ _his_ _body_ _began_ _to_ _reject_ _the_ _cells instead,_ _his_ _body would practically tear itself_ _in_ _half. He would've died_ _in_ _minutes. It's a miracle_ _he's_ _alive_."

Steve scoffed, miracle was an understatement. " _Is_ _there_ _anyway_ _to_ _turn_ _him_ _back_?" Clint asked curiously. " _In case_ _his_ _body does_ _try_ _to_ _turn_ _on_ _him_?"

" _Probably_ _not_ _. The time_ _and_ _effort_ _it_ _would take_ _to_ _rewrite_ _the_ _DNA_ _of_ _trillions_ _of_ _cells, it's_ _not_ _worth_ _it_ _. And,_ _it_ _probably won't change_ _him_ _. His body_ _is_ _long since adjusted._ " He paused, " _You know,_ _he_ _probably_ _had_ _it_ _done_ _when_ _he_ _was_ _a kid. I_ _mean_ _,_ _when_ _you're smaller, you have fewer cells_ _to_ _change_ _and_ _your body_ _is_ _still developing. It would probably_ _be_ _too dangerous_ _to_ _try_ _when_ _you're older. Size_ _and_ _weight probably have a say_ _in_ _it_ _too. If_ _he_ _was_ _a small, scrawny kid, he'd_ _be_ _perfect_ _for_ _this_ _type_ _of_ _experiment_."

"Tony," Steve spoke up, "Did you happen to find out where he was from?"

" _Uh, no_ ," Tony frowned. " _I've looked all_ _over_ _Hell's Kitchen_ _and_ _other_ _areas around_ _it_ _. Nobody reported a black male child missing_ _in_ _-between 2003 or 2004_ _with_ _a name starting_ _with_ _'B'_ _and_ _a single mother_ _with_ _the_ _name_ _Nichelle_."

"Don't seclude it to just the east coast. Look all over the country."

" _Okay_ ," Tony said with a tired huff. Steve could hear the distinct, quick typing of keys before he spoke again. " _Uh. . . okay. Fifty matches. Anyone wanna dumb_ _it_ _down_?"

" _Look_ _in_ _low_ _-income areas_ ," Bruce said. " _And cold cases. Those would_ _be_ _key breeding grounds_ _for_ _anyone_ _to_ _come_ _and_ _snatch a kid._ "

" _Hmm_. . ." Tony murmured. " _Okay, how's_ _this_ _:_ _Nichelle_ _Williams, East Palo Alto, California. She reported a_ _six_ _-year-old Blue Williams missing_ _in_ _2004\. She claimed_ _that_ _he_ _was_ _being taken care_ _of_ _by a neighbour_ _and_ _wasn't_ _there_ _when_ _she returned home from work_?"

" _Any witnesses_?" Natasha asked.

" _No. But,_ _there_ _was_ _reports_ _of_ _a. . . screaming girl? Huh. . ._ " Steve heard him type again, " _Huh. . . that's. . . strange. . ._ "

" _What's_ 'strange'?" Bruce asked.

" _There were no little girls reported missing_ _in_ _that_ _week ― or_ _that_ _month. How did_ _he_ _hear a little girl_?"

A chill swept over Steve, "Someone baited him to come out."

" _And_ _it_ _looks_ _like_ _he_ _isn't_ _the_ _only_ _one_ ," Tony said. " _There are reports all_ _over_ _the_ _country_ _of_ _missing kids reported_ _that_ _were associated_ _with_ _hearing a girl scream_."

" _Nobody connected_ _it_ _?_ " Natasha asked. " _That's pretty specific_."

" _No, uh, most cases were_ _with_ _low_ _-income families_ _and_ _across state lines. They probably_ _didn't_ _have_ _the_ _money_ _to_ _do so. And,_ _those_ _who_ _did. . ._ _they_ _didn't_ _last long_."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

" _Uh. . . 'Man dies_ _of_ _heart attack'. 'Family_ _of_ _two drive off_ _of_ _cliff'. 'Drive-by shooting kills three_ '." Steve felt his stomach twist. " _Someone, uh,_ _really_ _didn't_ _want_ _this_ _going_ _out_."

" _This_ _is_ _sick_ ," Clint growled and Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. He tried to imagine dozens of other children like Blue, all of them scared and flinching and making _actual_ dog-whines whenever something hurt.

"Keep looking into it, Tony," Steve ordered, taking a sip of his coffee. "Bruce, I need you to make sure he's stable physically. I don't want him having strokes on me. Nat and Clint, I want you two to look into his ' _Master_ '. Look into dog-fighting rings in Hell's Kitchen. Find anyone that fit his description ― tall, dark eyes and hair, and rugged appearance. If you find something, bring it to me first so I can show Blue. I don't want anything getting out. If his actual Master suspects something, he'll try to get out of the city. We can't let that happen."

" _Got it, Captain_ ," Natasha said, jokingly.

"We'll continue questioning when he wakes up," Steve said, downing the rest of his steaming coffee quickly. "He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."

" _I agree_ ," Clint said. " _I'll message you if we find anything_." He heard a beep, signalling Clint had turned his earpiece off.

Steve set his cup down, and walked over to the couch where Blue was sleeping quietly. He was curled up on the couch, his mouth slightly parted and drool slipping between his lips. Steve chuckled, picking up a blanket and draping it over the boy.

Blue snuggled into it, and ― much to Steve's surprise ― _purred_. It was a low rumble, and came from deep in his throat, but it was loud ― or at least loud enough for Tony to hear.

" _Oh, my_ god. _Did he just_ purr?" He asked, and laughed loudly.

Steve rolled his eyes and turned off his earpiece. He left his room, "JARVIS, can you notify me when Blue wakes up?"

" _Blue, sir?_ " The A.I. replied, not recognizing the name.

"The boy sleeping in the lounge. His name is Blue ― add him to your. . . contacts, or however that works."

" _Noted, sir_ ," the A.I. responded. " _And, I will tell you when he awakens_." Steve muttered a ' _thank you_ ', before going into his room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |
> 
>  
> 
> Three cheers for B.S. science, everyone! 
> 
> Honestly, correct me if I'm wrong with any of that cancer stuff --- I did some research for it, but Biology isn't my strongest point (which is wild bc I love science :c). I'll make changed accordingly when the chapter goes out. Thanks! 
> 
> I'll see y'all next time, and remember...
> 
> Don't melt~!  
> \- Happyritas 


	10. 9 | Blue Band-Aids

**Chapter Nine:**

When Blue woke up, he felt even more tired than when he slept. He moaned, turning over and forcing himself back asleep. He pressed his hands into the soft padding of his cage. What he didn't expect, was for his hands to sink into the surface. 

Blue's eyes jumped open, and he saw his hand had been _eaten_ by his cage. He yanked his hand out, holding it to his chest, and looked around, confused. Then it clicked. He was on a _couch_.

The realization of what he was on struck him a few seconds after. He was on a couch ― a _person thing_.

Blue never stood up so quickly in his life. He stumbled to get off, but as soon as he put pressure on his leg, it burned in pain. He hissed, and twisted, his limbs getting tangled in the process. Blue struggled, panic filling him. He finally ended up on the ground, his head banging into the leg of a metal table.

Blue groaned, his forehead stinging in pain. Blue tried to breathe and calm down, in and out. Steady and consistent. In and out. Steady and―

He heard footsteps coming down the hall. Blue's composure was gone immediately as he moved, trying to find somewhere to hide. If his Master saw that he was even _near_ the people things, he would discipline him.

If he found out that he hadn't killed Steve yet. . . the thought made him faint with nervousness.

Blue managed to pull an arm out of the blanket and quickly unraveled himself. When he was out, he immediately began to blend in with his surroundings. He held his breath, watching as a man he didn't recognize step into the room. He was wearing jeans and a black tee-shirt. He had dark hair and a clean-cut shave. He wore red-and-gold shoes with some design Blue didn't recognize. He had dark bags under his brown eyes and he let out a yawn. He stepped into the kitchen, muttering to himself about, ' _coffee grounds_ ', ' _sinks_ ', and ' _heathens_ '.

Blue swallowed hard, watching the man pour some water into a weird black machine, along with some black dust, and then put the pot in underneath it. The man sighed, and turned to where Blue had been sleeping. Blue watched in terror, as the man stared right at him, his brown eyes slowly realizing that Blue was no longer sleeping on the couch.

" _Shit_!" He snapped, running over to where Blue was. Blue was so stunned with fear, he didn't have time to react. The man ran over to the couch to find Blue, and ended up running straight into the boy.

The man tripped, falling forward, his head slamming into the couch cushions. Blue struggled to stand, his shoulder and leg burning. " _Ugh_. . ." The man muttered, rubbing his head. Blue tried to crawl away, using his one good leg and shoulder. The man turned to look at Blue, and eyebrow raised. "Where did you―? Why are you bleeding?" The man sat up, and Blue felt his heart jump.

His eyes went round and his fangs popped, sliding cleanly over his teeth. He growled at the man, maybe if he was scared he wouldn't try to hurt him. Maybe if he was scared, Blue could crawl away.

The man raised his hands, showing Blue his empty palms. "Wow, _okay_ , I take it back. Those things are _terrifying_ ," He gave a uncertain smile. "Hi, I'm Tony. You're Bl―" He paused. " _B_ , right?" Blue stared at the man, but he didn't stop talking. " _Right_. So, it's nearly three AM. You've been asleep all day. I honestly didn't think you'd be up yet ― you must have some _crazy_ sleep schedule." He chuckled. "I think Cap is still sleeping ― he probably is, the man sleeps like a _rock_. Uh, I could take you to him, but I should probably, uh, check your forehead first. How did you get that, anyway?"

Blue blinked, overloaded with the man's information ― and his words, there were so many _words_. He latched unto the last question, and looked down at the edge of the table, where a few drops of his blood still dripped down the leg of the table. Blue looked between himself and the man, his body going into a blind panic.

He scrambled over to it, ignoring his injured arm and leg, and tried to desperately wipe it off. The man, Tony, watched, as Blue's hand shook, "You ― uh, don't have to do that, B. . ." Tony said slowly. Blue didn't stop, he could hear his Master hissing in his ears.

_"If you so much as touch this, I'll skin you alive!"_

  
" _B_ ," Tony said, and Blue looked at him. Tony gave a strained smiled. "I, uh, should probably fix that cut on your head. I'll be right back, don't move." Tony stood, and began to quickly walk out. Blue cringed as the man strode past, disappearing into the kitchen. He rummaged through a few drawers, picking out a few things.

He came back with a few small packages and a small rectangular box. "Okay. . . I'm gonna clean it, and then I'll put a band-aid on it, alright?" Blue frowned, but nodded. Tony sat close, and Blue flinched grasping the rug under him. He watched as the man tore open the small package.

As soon as Blue smelt the alcoholic wipe, he screamed. Tony jumped in surprise as Blue scrambled to his feet, stumbling. His leg burned as he limped as fast as he could. He tripped trying to get to the kitchen, trying to get away. He hid underneath the barstool table, the long legs of the chairs blocking him. Blue blended in, his arms shaking and breath ragged.

Blue tried to breath in ― in ― in ― in

"B? C'mon, kid, we gotta get that cut looked at," Tony sighed, looking around, trying to spot Blue's shivering form. Tears burned his eyes and he stayed as far away from the man as humanly possible. He could feel the cold, blue hands holding his head down.

_"Inject the rest! Leaving him in a halfway state will be a waste!"_

 

_"This'll make it all better, baby."_

 

_"Give him another dosage."_

 

_"Going into shock!"_

 

_"My baby Blue. Lemme see those beautiful eyes."_

 

_"Stop squirming."_

  
Blue grasped the leg of the table, needing something to hold onto, and he forced himself to breathe. He heard something snap and a second later, the chair fell, collapsing on its sudden mis-managed weight. Tony noticed and was there immediately, the alcoholic wipe in his hand. He let out another scream, trying to push himself into the counter.

"What's going on in here?" He heard a someone say. _Steve_. It was Steve.

_"I don't want to hurt you. I want to help."_

  
"Steve!" Blue wailed, his eyes never leaving Tony, who had stopped in his tracks. " _Steve_!!"

"Hey, hey," Steve came into his line of sight and Blue calmed slightly. "Look at me, B. Over here," Blue's eyes darted to Steve for a second before looking back at Tony. "B, _look at me._ " Steve's tone was firm.

Blue looked at him, "There we go. What happened here?" He thumbed Blue's forehead. He flinched, trying to not look back at Tony. He was still holding the wipe. It made him nervous.

"―Happened?" Blue blinked, and Steve repeated his words. "What happened, B?"

"Wake ― person thing. Fell ― scared," Blue licked his lips, trying to calm down. "He ― Tony help ― hurt. Wipe―" Blue shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to breathe, in ― out, in ― out, in ― out.

"What were you trying to do, Tony?" Steve asked, turning to the man.

"I was trying to clean that cut on his head," Tony said, waving the wipe. Blue's eyes widened, scrambling away, and hitting the other chairs, knocking another one down on the floor. Tony winced, " _Please_. . . stop breaking my stuff. . ."

" _Stark_ ," Steve warned, annoyed.

"Well, _excuse me_!" Tony huffed. "I was just trying to _help_ the kid."

"You _obviously_ did something that he didn't like," Steve snapped.

"How was I supposed to know that? He doesn't speak _full sentences_!"

" _Really_ , Stark? You're going to blame him for that?"

"How am I supposed to help him, if he doesn't tell me what's _wrong_!"

"You _listen_ to him," Steve growled. "But, you don't seem to be able to know how to do much of that, since you're always _running your mouth_."

Tony pointed a finger at Steve, anger in his eyes, "Listen _here_ , Rogers―" He never finished his sentence.

Blue launched himself at Tony, his fangs bared and he pinned the man on the ground. Blue hissed, ready to kill the man who threatened Steve. His claws sank into his shoulders, drawing blood. Tony stared up at him, his eyes wide in sudden fear. Then, he relaxed under him, his eyes unfocusing.

"Whoa! _Blue_!" Steve exclaimed, "Get off of him!" Blue did as he was told immediately. He stepped off of Tony, and rubbed his shoulder. It stung in pain, but didn't burn like it used to. Steve helped Tony to his feet, who still looked a bit dazed. "You okay?"

"His _eyes_. . ." He muttered, and gently felt his shoulder. He winced, his hand coming back with blood.

Steve turned to Blue, "Why did you do that?"

"Tony hurt Steve," Blue said, still staring at Tony.

" _No_ , he wasn't going to hurt me," Steve said. "In fact, I don't want you to hurt _anyone_ who is in this tower, got that? I can fight for myself."

Blue stared at Steve, confused. "Me fight?"

" _No_. You _don't_ fight, B," Steve said sternly. "Don't hurt anyone else who lives here." Blue looked down and nodded. " _Good_. Now, let's get that cut fixed, and then we all go to bed." Tony rose an eyebrow, "Yes, you too. Keep working late like this, and you'll work yourself to the grave. Give me a band-aid and a wet paper towel." Tony frowned, but went to the kitchen anyway.

He handed it to Steve who held it out to Blue, "Do you want me to use the wipe, or the towel?"

"Towel," Blue said, and Steve nodded. He began to gently dab the cut with the soggy paper towel.

Blue's eyebrow twitched a little, but he didn't pull back. When he finished, he took the box from Tony. Steve's eyes narrowed, " _Really_?"

"What? Blue is a _lovely_ colour on him," Tony smirked. Steve rolled his eyes, and pressed the band-aid on his skull. Tony took out his phone, and snapped a picture. Then, he turned his phone around to show Blue.

Blue stared at himself in awe. The _Blue_ in the picture was sitting on the floor, with a blue band-aid on his head. It was covered in red-and-white circles that had a star in the middle.

"There you go ― all patched up," Steve smiled, "Come on, time for bed."

Blue stood, wincing slightly, looking back at the couch. "Me sleep couch?" He asked.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?" Steve asked. Blue didn't meet his eyes, and he nodded. "Are you sure? You can come sleep in my room, if you want." Blue looked at him, and swallowed. "Is that a yes?" Blue shrugged a bit. "Come on," He said, waving his hand at Blue.

Steve walked over to the couch, grabbing Blue's discarded crutch. Blue watched him walk for a bit, then turned to Tony, who had been watching him, his eyes narrowed. Blue looked down, "Sorry," He murmured,

"Yeah, okay, kid," Tony said stiffly, turning away, walking down the opposite hall.

"Here you go," Steve said, handing Blue the crutch. Blue nodded and put it under his arm. He limped down the hall behind Steve. He stepped in, and flicked on the light, then he held the door open for Blue. There was a big bed and a lot of open space. On the wall beside the bed was a dresser, and beside that, a nightstand. There were two doors, and a big window, which was tinted completely black.

Steve slipped past Blue, grabbing a blanket off the bed. He laid it across the floor, "You sleep on the bed ― you need it more than I do."

"Person thing!" Blue said, and Steve frowned.

"What did I say about that?" He scolded, and Blue flinched. Steve paused, "I'm sorry. I'm being too harsh." He sat on the bed, watching Blue lean on the crutch. "Why did you attack Tony?"

"Tony hurt Steve," Blue replied.

"But, you're supposed to kill me, aren't you?" Blue blinked, "Why would you help Tony if he was a threat to me?"

Blue opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. Steve smiled, "You don't have to say anything. And, I'm not mad at what you did. It was sweet." _Sweet_? "I had a friend like that. We stood up for each other. Well, he would do it more for me, but still." Steve looked at his hands, smiling, "His name was Bucky."

"Bucky?" Blue repeated, and Steve nodded. "Bucky friend?"

"Yeah. We were friends," Steve said. Then he glanced at the nightstand, where a small digital clock sat, displaying the time ― **02:24**. "We should go to sleep. It's late."

Blue nodded and moved towards the blanket on the ground. " _Ah_ ―" Blue didn't let him say anything. He laid down, curling up on the blanket. Steve sighed, " _Fine_. If you want to sleep there ― _fine_." Steve got into his own bed, and Blue listened to the springs move and squeak.

It was silent for a few minutes, "I meant it when I said I wasn't upset with you, B. I was just worried about Stark. He can be an ass sometimes and start pushing the wrong buttons." Blue made a soft hum in response. "'Night, B."

Blue was quiet for a moment, "Night, Steve."


	11. 10 | Blue Mornings

**Chapter Ten:**

Steve woke up at six AM on the dot. He grunted, sitting up straight. He stretched, and glanced at the ground. Blue was curled up on the ground, still fast asleep. His mouth was open and thin line of drool stained his blankets under him. Steve smiled, and got out on the other side of the bed.

Steve quickly showered and dressed in the bathroom. He stepped out of the room and glanced at the digital clock again ― 06: 22. "JARVIS," He said softly, pulling his shoes on. "Tell me if Blue wakes up ― don't make any noise," He said, before the AI could respond. "Blink the lights once if you understood." The lights blinked and Steve nodded. "Thank you."

Steve slipped his other shoe on, and looked back at Blue, who was still curled up and snoring lightly. A smile tugged at Steve's lips, and he walked out of the room

Steve spent an hour in the gym in the Tower. He was later joined by Natasha, who insisted on sparring with him. After duelling for twenty minutes and not quite deciding who was the winner, Steve moved to sit down, opening his water bottle and drinking it.

"How's the kid coming?" Natasha asked, moving beside him.

"It's a process," Steve replied. He set his iPod down behind him. "I think he's warming up to me, but. . ."

"Did something happen last night? I heard screaming."

"That was him. He woke up on the couch and somehow managed to cut his forehead. Tony was in the kitchen and tried to help him. When he opened up the wipe to clean the blood, Blue had a fit."

"Is everyone alright?" Natasha asked, her eyebrows creased with worry.

"You see, that's the thing," Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Tony and I were having an argument, and Blue jumped on Tony. I swear he would've killed him if I hadn't said anything."

"Why did he attack Tony?"

"I didn't get it either at first, but when I asked him, he said ' _Tony hurt Steve_ '. Nat, he was _protecting_ me."

Natasha stared at him, her eyes narrowed. ". . . But, he's supposed to kill you."

" _Exactly_!" Steve sighed, rubbing his face. "Why would he go out of his way to protect me when he was sent here to kill me?"

"Maybe he got confused," Natasha suggested. "He forgot his mission to make sure you were safe."

"Or, he wants to be the one who kills me," Steve shrugged. "He's a mystery. . ."

" _Yep_ ," Natasha stood. "It's eight-fifteen, are you going to wake the kid up?"

"Yeah," Steve stood up too, and stretched a bit. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"No you won't," she replied. "Clint's cooking." Steve laughed at her long-standing grudge of Clint's cooking, and left the gym.

**с·и·н**

  
When he came back, he found Blue just as he left him ― curled up and sleeping. Steve chuckled and walked over. He bent down. "Blue? Time to get up." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, and immediately regretted it.

Blue jumped, his foot coming flying at Steve's face. It landed in his chin, making his head snap to the side. Steve grunted, touching his face, but the boy wasn't done.

He tackled Steve, his fangs bared as he hissed. Steve looked up at him, "Blue, _wait_ ―!" The sound died in his throat as he stared at Blue, or really his eyes.

He never noticed before, but Blue's eyes weren't black, like he suspected, but simply a very dark shade of blue. It almost reminded him of the night sky, that indigo shade, but a few hues darker. His eyes, Steve noticed, were beautiful, Steve couldn't help but stare at them, his body relaxing. They mesmerized him, they took up all of his attention.

Steve blinked slowly, almost not wanting to blink at all, a second away from looking at his eyes wasn't something he wanted to do. Blue's claws sank into his shoulder, and his fangs nearly bit into his neck, when suddenly, Blue was tackled and held away.

His ears felt like they were filled with cotton, but he was sure someone was calling his name. "Ste. . . Steve!"

He snapped up, looking over at Natasha, who had been watching Steve, her eyes narrowed. "Steve, what the _hell_!?"

Blue was struggling in her grasp, but as soon as he saw Steve, he stopped. Then, he blinked, as if clearing his head. " _Steve_?" Blue asked.

Steve himself was still a bit out of it. He shook his head, rubbing his jaw, " _Ugh_."

"What happened? Why were you just lying there?" Natasha demanded. She was still holding onto Blue, but he wasn't moving.

"His _eyes_. . ." Steve muttered, "He's an Enhanced. _Geez_. That's what Tony meant last night." Blue whined in Natasha's arm, he stared at Steve, regret and worry in his blue eyes. "You can let him go, Nat. He's not a threat anymore."

Natasha reluctantly did as told. Blue rubbed his wrist and began to check his wrapped up wounds ― most had healed nicely.

"What the hell was that?" Natasha demanded.

"He's an Enhanced," Steve explained. "His eyes were. . . Distracting me."

" _What_?" Steve bit his lip, trying to explain.

"His eyes, he. . . I dunno, they just. . . they got all big and I just. . . I couldn't move." Blue stared at Steve, his blue eyes growing with even more horror. He crawled back, scared. "It's okay ― I'm not mad, B."

Blue sucked his teeth and he looked at Steve's bleeding shoulders, and the light marks where his teeth cut Steve's neck. "Don't worry about that, you were scared. I should've been more careful waking you up. I'm not mad at you, you don't have to be scared."

Blue didn't move, but he did relax a little. Steve took this as a sign to continue. "Natasha, can you get him some clothes? I'm gonna see if he can take a shower."

"Sure," Natasha said, and stood. "Oh, and you left this," she tossed him his iPod and ear buds. Steve rose an eyebrow, realizing that he did leave it lying on the gym mat.

Natasha gave a wary look to Blue, who flinched, looking away. "Be careful, Steve."

"I know," Steve said, and she walked out the door. Steve looked back at Blue, who gave a short sniff, rubbing at his eyes.

Steve assessed him. The boy certain had a stink around him, and it looked like his body was covered in dirt and grime and blood, here and there. His hair was short, but it was tangled and Steve suspected that it had begun to lock from lack of care.

"Come on, B," Steve said, stretching out a hand to him. He flinched, not looking up. "You know I'm not going to hurt you. Let's go, you gotta take a shower."

"Shower?" Blue asked and Steve gave a sad smile. Based on the layers upon layers of grime, it wasn't a surprise that he didn't know what it was.

"Yeah, I'll show you," Steve stepped over to grab Blue's crutch and held it out to him.

Blue shook his head. "Leg no hurt," He explained, getting up on his own. Steve watched, proudly and waved him along.

Steve led Blue to the bathroom and turned on the light switch. His bathroom was medium sized, with a porcelain toilet, tub, and countertop for his sink. It was wide enough for him to have a medium-sized cabinet.

"I'm going to show you how to use the shower, then, I'll step out, okay?" Blue nodded, leaning over the toilet. "Good, over here." He stepped close to the tub, and Blue next to him. He gently turned on the water, and flicked the switch to allow it to be directed to the top.

As soon as water came out, Blue jumped, falling on his back, his head hitting the tiled floor. Steve turned around to see him huddled in the corner, ready to fight, eyes blazing again, tempting. Mesmerizing.

Steve tried not to look at it, instead he stared at the spot over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Steve angry me!" He said quickly. "Steve no angry. Now ― angry, me!"

Steve took a second to decide what he had just said. "B, I'm not mad at you―"

"Steve _angry_!" Blue insisted, staring desperately. "Hose ― angry me!" Steve watched his fangs slide over his teeth. He held his hands up innocently.

"That's not a hose, B," Steve said calmly. He remembered how close those teeth had been to ripping his throat out. "It's a shower, it doesn't hurt. _See_?" He put his hand underneath the water, and made sure Blue watched as it bounced off his hand harmlessly. Blue eased and the intensity of his gaze went away. "Are you ready?"

Blue still looked a bit scared, but Steve helped. He reached into the cabinet, pulling out a towel. "Here. You can wash with this, you don't have to get completely in the shower if you don't want to." Blue stood slowly and watched the shower, as if expecting it to come alive and attack him. Blue took the towel from Steve and stayed where he was.

"Take your time," Steve said. "I'll be back later. I'll knock on the door like this―" he demonstrated on the side of the tub, knocking three times. "I'll bring you something to wear too, alright?" Blue nodded, and Steve gave him a reassuring smile, before leaving the room.

**b·l·a·u**

  
Steve was waiting in his room for Blue to be done, when he heard a knock on his door. "Come in," He called, and the door opened. Tony stepped in his room, his arms crossed. "Stark," Steve greeted, an eyebrow raised.

"Love what you've done with the place," Tony commented, looking around the blank wall and the bare minimum for survival. "Definitely brings the ' _detached_ ' feel. Very heartwarming."

"What do you want, Stark?" Steve asked, his eyes narrowed.

"I found something," Tony said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels. Steve rose an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "His mom is still alive. She's living in Palo Alto, same address as when he left. I've contacted her about Blue, she hasn't responded yet."

Steve blinked, "That's good," he said, surprised.

"She's been in and out of rehab for the past ten years," Tony said. "Substance abuse."

" _Oh_ ," Steve frowned, and Tony made a face.

"I contacted her anyway," He said, moving to lean against the wall. "She deserves to know her son is alive, but. . . if she's not capable of handling Blue, then. . ."

"He's sixteen," Steve frowned, "He'll be in and out of foster care. He won't have anywhere to go. And, he's not equipped with the skills to live by himself ― not with where he's at now."

"I agree," Tony said. "That's why I came to you. I think we should take him to see her, once all this is, you know, sorted out. We can work out what to do. Hopefully, she can get her act together, take Blue in permanently."

Steve nodded, he definitely agreed, but he had grown a bit attached to the boy, even though they had only known each other for less than a day. He was vulnerable, and willing to follow the beck and call of anyone who claimed to be his ' _Master_ '. Not only that, but he was an Enhanced, and inherently dangerous, even when he didn't mean it. His mother was used to a completely different Blue, a younger, probably softer version. Blue has changed significantly in the past ten years, far from what she remembered of him.

But this was his mother, Steve reasoned. He remembered the look on the boy's face when he asked him about it. His eyes getting a bit of a faraway look, his brow furrowing, as if he were struggling to remember something he dreamed years before. He asked him about brownies, something he had completely forgotten that he liked. Blue might not be able to remember everything, but Steve knew he wasn't always like this. Maybe the five-year-old Blue was fun and loved sweets ― probably something unfathomable to the boy now. He wondered what the younger Blue did in his free-time. Did he like to draw? Or played an instrument?

Blue's entire life had been ripped away at an age where he would have been developing himself and his personality. Maybe, if he reunited with his mother, he'd be able to return to that life.

"We'll do it," Steve agreed. "After this is all cleaned up."

"Good," Tony smirked, and then crossed his arms, the look of mischief back in his eyes. "I heard you had a tumble with him this morning."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Nat told you?"

"She said you just lied there," Tony continued, a bit more seriously. He held up a hand, showing two fingers an inch apart. "This close to getting your throat ripped out."

"Is that what happened to you last night?" Steve asked, "You did the same thing."

Tony bristled, looking away. "He caught me off guard."

"It was his eyes, wasn't it," Steve said. "It's hypnotizing."

Tony rolled his eyes, "Hypnosis isn't real."

"Maybe it is, for an Enhanced."

"That's what you think he is?" Tony rose an eyebrow.

Steve shrugged, "Banner said he might have abilities he might not even realize he has. When I told Nat what happened, he looked confused."

Tony's eyes narrowed, "We'll talk to him later, then. Or, have Bruce give him a check up."

"Sounds good," Steve nodded, and Tony grimaced. "What?"

"If. . . Hypothetically speaking, if Blue _does_ have the ability to. . . hypnotize people with his eyes ― which is absolutely _absurd_ and doesn't make _any_ sense to me ― it'll make him a significant threat, if he were trying to kill you again. Even without realizing it, he'd _always_ have the upperhand."

"I wasn't hypnotized when I fought him the first time."

"You were in a dark apartment at night the first time," Tony deadpanned. "Look, all I'm saying is that if Blue proves to be more dangerous than he lets on. . . it might be best to take him to SHIELD or something."

" _Why_?" Steve frowned. "What would they do with him?"

"Hold him in a secure location until he can get his shit under control," Tony said, and Steve's eyes narrowed. "It's just a suggestion, and it might not happen. I'm just. . . opening up the opportunity of maybe putting the safety of the team first."

"He's a _kid_ , Tony."

"You almost didn't have a _throat_ this morning, Steve," Tony snapped.

"You know he didn't mean that. I scared him."

"If that's how he reacts when he's scared, how will he went he's not? When he first attacked you, he was injured. When he gets better and actually _tries_ to take you out?"

"He won't do that," Steve said. "He tried to help me last night when he thought you were threatening me."

"Yeah, and if he thinks _you're_ the threat?" Steve's eyes narrowed, and Tony sighed, waving a hand in the air. "You know what? _Whatever_. I'll send you the information for his mom ― you talk to her." Tony turned to leave, but stopped, "Oh wait." He grabbed a bag he left on the bag, and tossed it at Steve, who caught it. "Nat told me to give you that." He closed the door behind him.


	12. 11 | Blue Breakfasts

**Chapter Eleven:**

Steve knocked lightly on the bathroom door once Tony had left He heard a small noise of alarm from inside, and tried not to smile. “B? It’s Steve. Are you done yet?”

“Yes,” Blue responded and Steve opened the door. He immediately closed it, his face burning.

“Go to the, uh, cabinet and grab a big towel.” Steve instructed, rubbing his forehead. "Cover yourself up. Tell me when you’re done.” Steve heard scuffling from inside the bathroom, and a minute later, Blue spoke again.

“Done.” Steve opened the door ― slowly, this time ― and set the plastic bag in the sink. He gave Blue the once over. He had a big towel draped over him like a blanket, which made Steve smile a bit. His hair was wet, which loosened his curls that reached to about the ends of his ears. His skin was scrubbed clean, and the floor around him soaked. He didn’t look like he stepped a single foot in the shower but still managed to get clean. Steve made a note to clean the bathroom before they went to go eat.

Blue’s face was clean and his bandages were unravelled and on the floor. The cut above his eye looked more like a paper cut now. The bite marks on his shoulder cleaned up well too, the wounds shrinking and looking a lot more manageable than yesterday morning. Steve couldn’t see the condition of his thigh, but he could see his forearms. The long, deep cuts were a lot shallower now, and were covered with dark brown scabs.

Now that his face was cleaner, Blue’s dark eyes stood out a lot more and looked nice with his darker complexion, but they weren’t mesmerizing like they got when he was upset. Steve had to admit, however, that they quite breathtaking. He also had high cheekbones, and long eyelashes. Steve knew the boy would not find any difficulty with finding a significant other with those kinds of features.

Steve motioned to the bag he set down in the sink. “These have clothes for you to wear. You can dump your old ones. When you finish, come out and we can go eat breakfast, alright?” Blue nodded and Steve closed the door, leaving it slightly cracked.

Five minutes later, Blue stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing and itching at the new clothes. They were the standard spandex-like uniform, usually made for training, or something extra to wear if their clothes got damaged and they still needed to fight. It stretched over his arms, exposing well-toned muscles, the outcome of several years of fighting, but the boy was still skinny. Steve could see the faint outline of his rib cage, and knew it would probably be more defined if he wasn’t wearing an undershirt.

The pants were small on him, which was understandable, Blue was a pretty tall for a sixteen-year-old, and he was still growing. But, he always seemed to be looking at the floor, or hunched over. When he stood to his full height, he was very tall, and probably more intimidating.

“Give me a minute to clean up, then we’ll go, alright?” Steve said, and Blue nodded still scratching at his shirt and trying to pull his insufferably short pants legs down. Steve frowned and went to the dresser beside his bed. He found a pair of blue jeans and handed it to Blue. “Here, change into theses while I go clean the bathroom,” Blue nodded and Steve moved past him.

He tossed the old bandages and used the towels Blue used earlier to mop up the wet floor. Just as Steve suspected, there had been water everywhere. Maybe next time, Steve would introduce Blue to baths instead of showers.

When he finished, Blue was sitting on the blanket he slept on the night before. In his hands, was the pants he had swapped out for. He was concentrated on the material, trying to fold it, but only managing to ball up the fabric and twisting it this way and that.

Steve chuckled, and Blue looked up, dropping the pants. Steve smiled for the boy, and he relaxed, “Let’s go,” He said, waving the boy along. Blue walked behind him, and Steve noticed that his limp had gotten much better. The wound on his leg must have healed just as well as his shoulder did.

As they neared the kitchen, Steve could smell the breakfast Clint was brewing ― eggs, bacon, and pancakes, he assumed. He glanced at Blue, who’s mouth was sealed tight, but his arms crossed over his chest. He could see the buldge of his lips when his fangs fell out, and smiled. He must’ve only had those sandwiches Steve made him yesterday and nothing else. They boy was practically starved now.

Clint looked up from the stove and smirked, “Finally up?” He said, and motioned to the counter, Steve knew the man must have been cooking all morning. There had been french toast, pancakes, waffles, eggs ― both scrambled and boiled ― a pitcher of orange juice and a pot of coffee beside it. There was bacon, fruit in a bowl, oatmeal, berries, toast with butter on standby, and ― strangely enough ― _brownies_.

Steve saw everyone else sitting on or around the couch, eating and talking, but the conversation had died down when Blue and Steve entered.

Steve turned to look at Blue, who seemed stuck in time, simply gaping at the wide array of food presented to him. Just as Steve thought, his fangs were out and his mouth salivating. He heard the boy’s stomach growl and silently thanked Clint. “B, this is Clint Barton. He’s another one of my friends.”

“Hey,” Clint waved a spatula, grinning. “Come eat.”

The two words seemed to snap Blue out of whatever daze he was in. He turned to Steve, his indigo eyes wide, but expression wary. Even now, when hungry and presented with a feast, he didn’t want to go against the orders of his ‘ _Master_ ’.

Steve gave a small pat on his arm, “Don’t wait on my account,” Steve said, and waved a hand to the food.

Blue _ran_. He fumbled with the plate, and Clint helped him, pointing out what each and every thing was, describing how it tasted. Blue listened closely, and Clint stacked layer upon layer of food on his plate. Blue was practically bouncing in excitement, his eyes lit up and he nodded vigoruously, ready to try these new things that smelt so good.

Steve walked over to where Natasha, Tony, and Bruce sat. They were talking again. Natasha moved her legs so Steve could sit down. “You gonna eat?” She asked.

“I’ll wait ‘til Blue’s done,” Steve replied. “How long has Clint been up making this?” Steve asked.

“He actually started last night,” Bruce said. “The boiled eggs and the brownies. He made it in the kitchen downstairs, then he made all the hot stuff this morning.”

“Yeah," Tony said, chuckling after taking a sip of lukewarm coffee. "He said that ― and this is a direct quote ― ‘ _it would be a sin to not cook a complete breakfast for a kid who’s never even had a sandwich, and has been eating dog shit for the past ten years_ ’.”

Steve smiled, looking back over at the kitchen where Clint handed Blue a piece of bacon, suggesting him to try it. Blue did, and practically melted on the spot. “I think Clint just won the role of favourite, guys,” Natasha chuckled.

“He hasn’t met me yet,” Bruce frowned, and Natasha smiled at him.

“ _Right_ ,” Tony scoffed, “Because he’ll be fascinated by your _artistic_ showing of medical science and work in biology.”

“Stop it,” Natasha scolded, nudging him with her foot. Blue began to walk over to the table, balancing a plate filled to the max. Behind him, was Clint, holding another plate, and a few fruits. As soon as Clint set it down, Blue looked at Steve, as if asking ‘ _are you_ sure _this is for me_?’

Steve smiled, “Eat up, kid.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Blue was shoving his mouth full of food, completely disregarding the utensils that Clint brought him. His fangs glinted, and Steve saw Tony tense beside him. By the time Clint finished peeling the orange for Blue, he had finished both plates and the apple.

Clint handed him the freshly peeled orange, and that was quickly consumed as well. It was as if the boy had a vaccuum in his stomach and couldn’t seem to get enough food.

Steve inherently _knew_ that it probably wasn’t good for Blue’s health in the long-term to feed him so much, but he also didn’t want to take the food away. Blue had _tears_ coming down his face as he ate, experiencing new things and loving every second. It wouldn’t be right to do so, so he decided he would simply have to deal with the consequences and let him enjoy this.

Blue was beaming and his hands were sticky from food, “Ah, uh, don’t touch _anything_ ,” Tony said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out hand sanitizer. He tossed it to Clint, who helped the boy clean up.

“He practically _inhaled_ that,” Natasha said under her breath with a little laugh. Steve could only shake his head, not knowing what to say about it.

Blue was smiling ― the first time he had smiled since he came to the tower ― and was bouncing on his knees. He was talking to Clint ― all broken words and half sentences ― and Clint seemed to understand, responding in kind.

“So B,” Steve said, catching Blue’s attention. “This is Bruce Banner, he’s the one that fixed you up.” Blue nodded slowly, but didn’t look like he understood where Steve was going with it. “He’s a doctor, and he wants to make sure you’re feeling better later today, is that alright?” Blue stiffened, and looked at Bruce, who gave him a shy wave.

Blue looked back at Steve, “Bruce hurt me?” He asked, frowning.

“No, he won’t,” Steve assured.

“Check-up?” Blue asked. “Pills ― shots?”

The atmosphere lulled a bit, Bruce’s theory of his medical abuse becoming a reality. “No, dude,” Clint said from beside him. “None of that. Just making sure you’re feeling okay. How about for lunch, we do grilled cheese and tomato soup, huh?” Blue looked like he didn’t know what that meant, but still smiled and nodded excitedly. He was properly convinced that whatever Clint could make would be great.

Natasha spoke, and pointed to his plate, “Why didn’t you eat the brownie?” Steve looked down, and realized that Natasha was right. In the middle of the plate ― covered by a few napkins and orange peels ― was a perfectly good brownie, that Blue had taken exactly one bite of.

Steve remembered Blue’s question on brownies yesterday, he asked if he liked them. Was that why Clint made it today? Blue looked at it, realized her question, and shrugged. “Justine ― brownies.”

Steve frowned, “Who’s Justine?”

“Woman. Clean ― me. Brownies, good,” Blue looked at the brownie, but his mind seemed to be far away. “Read ― nice. Money ― Ma tired. Clean. . . clean outside.” Blue frowned, “Outside. . . screaming ― dark. Hurt. Master ― cage ― small. Dark ― cage ― hurt. Ma ― hurt.” Blue’s stare became more terrified, and he swallowed. He looked like he was going to be sick. His forehead was building up sweat and his hands were shaking. He was breathing irregularly, and kept swallowing hard.

“Hey, B,” Steve rose from the couch, and Blue looked at him, “Come with me for a minute,” Steve said, helping the boy up. He rushed him to the bathroom, having merely seconds to spare before the boy vomited.

His shoulders shook over the toilet, as his half-eaten food came back up. Steve sighed, knowing this would leave him just as hungry as he had been before. “You good?” He asked the boy, moving to touch his back. Blue moved immediately, his eyes red and sore from heaving.

“ _Po_ – _Poison_!” He cried, terrified, “ _Sick_ ― Steve ― Clint ― me, _bad_ ― _people things_ ―”

“We didn’t poison you,” Steve assured, “You just ate too quickly. Remember what I told you? You just got sick from eating too much. That was my fault ― I knew I should’ve stopped you.”

Blue stared at him, and seemed to remember Steve’s words. He relaxed ― a little ― and leaned back against the wall, breathing. “We’ll let you eat something a little lighter. You have to adjust to eating big meals like that.” Blue just nodded, rubbing at his forehead.

Steve pulled out his phone, and typed a small message in the group chat that Tony showed him how to work.

 **To All from Steve:** _Blue is okay. About to ask a few questions._

He put in his earpiece, turning it on. Natasha spoke immediately. “ _Isn’t it a little soon? Is he okay for_ _questions_ _?”_ Steve answered on his phone.

 **To All from Steve:** _A few_.

Steve looked at Blue who seemed to be easing up. “Are you alright?” Blue let out a shaky moan. “Do you want some water?” Steve asked, opening up the cabinet under the bathroom sink, pulling out a water bottle from a pack. Steve had found out that Tony kept them their for. . . ‘ _over-the-toilet_ ’ nights, especially after heavy drinking.

Steve opened it and held it out to Blue, who took it, “Drink it — _slowly_ ,” Steve warned, and Blue did as he was told, probably not wanting to experience any more dry-heaving. “B. . . what were you talking about earlier, with the brownies and the cages?”

Blue breathed, drinking another gulp. He swallowed and wiped his mouth, “Master ― old?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, “What did you mean by that?”

“Master ― doctor. Help. Me good, Master happy. No discipline.” Blue looked down, “ _No discipline_.”

“What happened?” Steve asked. “Is he your master now?”

“New Master ― tall, dark ― messy face.”

“These are two different people,” Steve realized. “The second one, what does it look like where he lives?”

Blue frowned, “Big buildings. Tall. Brown ― people?”

“How many floors, B?” Blue thought about it again.

“Five? Deep ― ground. Fight ― dogs.”

“What kind of dogs did you fight, B?”

“Big,” Blue stretched out his arms to full length. “Strong ― muscle.” He frowned, the face he made when he was remembering something. “Master shot ― dog big.”

Steve took a second to unpack this, “Steroids?” He asked, but Blue gave a clueless look.

“ _That narrows the search down ― you wouldn't_ believe _how many dog rings are in Hell’s Kitchen,”_ Natasha grumbled. “ _And, New York as a whole. . ._ ” she scoffed.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your Master? What do people call him? Where does he live?” Blue shook his head, but Steve wasn't disappointed. “What about your old Master? What was he like?”

Blue froze, getting that faraway look again. “McClain,” he said. “Doctor ― nice. Me ― pet. Doctor―” Blue heaved again and turned back to the toilet.

“Nice? _”_ Bruce was saying. “ _The man who made him this way was_ nice?!”

“ _Maybe compared to the other man, yeah_ ,” Tony said.

“ _I've got a match for his Master_ ,” Natasha announced. “ _Meet Mister David McAllister. I'm sending address and profile brief now_ ,” Natasha said, and Steve's phone buzzed.

Steve pulled out his phone, and chose a picture, “B,” Blue looked up, he looked exhausted. “Do you recognize this man?” Steve showed the boy the picture and watched as his eyes slowly grew wide with terror. His hands shook, and lip quivered.

“No ― _please_ ― me kill―!” Blue said, his anxiety going from one to one hundred in a matter of seconds. He tried backing up, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Hey, B, it's okay, it's okay," he put the phone away. Natasha was right, he supposed. "He can't hurt you. It's a picture. He can't hurt you.”

“Me kill ― me fight ― me kill him ― _please_ , no―!”

“Hey, calm down,” Steve warned. “No more questions. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?”

Steve bent down, and helped him out of the sweatshirt, leaving him with just the tee-shirt he had on underneath. “Nat, can you get me another shirt, please.”

“ _Well, since you asked so nicely_ ,” she teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

Steve gave Blue more water. “So you think you'll be okay?” Blue shrugged, but his hands were shaking. Steve could still smell the vomit on his breath and cringed. “You need to brush your teeth. Nat?”

“ _Yeah, I'll pick one up too_ ,” she said. “ _Be there in a minute_.”

Blue was looking at the ground, His eyebrows furrowed. Steve looked at him, “Hey, B? Everything alright?”

“ _Kill Steve,_ ” Blue murmured, and Steve's blood ran cold. “Master ― kill me. _Kill Steve_.”

“ _Blue_ ,” Steve spoke seriously. “Remember our promise? You said you wouldn't try to kill me. _Remember_?”

“ _Master_ ― _kill me_!” Blue screamed, his pupils shrinking and looking desperate. “Kill Steve ― Master–Master―”

“ _Blue_. We made a _promise_. You said you don't _want_ to kill me. Your Master can't make you do _anything_ , not _here_.”

Blue shook his head, holding a hand to his temple, his shoulders shaking. “Blue, are you listening to me?”

“No choice,” he whispered. “Kill Steve ― kill―”

“ _Blue_ ―!” Blue jumped, knocking Steve against the door. He had a firm arm on his throat, the other one had claws for finger nails. Blue’s fangs were showing, but Blue was hesitating.

“I know you don't want go do this,” Steve said, despite feeling as though Blue was going to crush his windpipe. “You're better than this ― you don't have to kill me.”

“Master kill me,” Blue whimpered. “No _choice_.”

“We're going to go to your Master, alright? We're going to talk to him. He's not going to hurt you anymore.” Blue didn't look like he believed him. “If you tell us where your Master lives, we can talk to him now.”

“Master kill me,” Blue worried.

“We'll protect you. We won't let him lay a hand on you.”

Blue stared, then finally let Steve go. He stepped back and swallowed. “Steve help?” Blue asked slowly.

Steve smiled. “Yes, Blue. We're gonna help you.”


	13. 12 | Blue Fires

**Chapter Twelve:**

Blue seemed to be stuck in a perpetual state of fear and anxiety. After Steve promised to help Blue, he gave Blue a new shirt ― his had vomit on it ― and helped him brush his teeth, including his fangs.

After they finished, Steve sat Blue on the couch and told him to " _wait, while everyone gets ready_ ". Then, he proceeded to take a few of the white things Clint called boiled eggs and left.

 _Clint_. Blue liked Clint. He introduced him to do many new things, that Blue began to get dizzy with information and the scent of it all. He thought Clint had poisoned him when Blue started to vomit ― the doctor would do that, and Blue would be sick for days ― but Steve just said that he had eaten too much.

Blue's favourite was the bacon. It was salty and warm and sizzled on Blue's tongue. The thought of eating more made his stomach grumble.

Someone was walking down the hall, and Blue noticed it was Clint. He was wearing a new outfit and went to the kitchen to clean up the food. Clint noticed Blue on the couch and smirked.

He hurried to finish and stepped down into the sitting area. "Hi, B," Clint smiled, and made hand movements as he talked.

"Hi," Blue mimicked.

"How are you feeling? Still sick?" Blue frowned, he did it again.

Blue shook his head, and waited for Clint to move his hands again. Clint noticed and laughed. "Sorry. My hearing aids are charging."

"What ― hands?" Blue asked, watching him move them again.

"It's sign language," Clint explained. "I can't hear very well, so when I don't want to, or can't hear people speak, I can do this."

Blue was absolutely entranced. "Want me to teach you a few words?" Blue nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Name?" Blue suggested.

Clint held up a hand. His fingers were standing straight except for his thumb which was folded against his palm. Blue marvelled, eyes wide, and he copied it on his own hand. His fingers were slightly spread apart, and Clint pushed them together, fixing it. "That's B."

"Blue?" Blue asked.

Clint nodded, showing him his hand, all of the fingers straight. And slightly twisting it. Blue copied, and began to grin. Blue pressed a hand to his chest, then made the sign for blue. [ _Me - Blue_ ].

Clint smiled, "What else?"

"Clint?" Clint spelt out his name and Blue watched carefully. He slowly began to spell out Clint's name, his fingers fumbling with a ' _n_ ' and the ' _t_ ', but when he finished, he was beaming.

Clint chuckled and Steve came down the hallway, uniformed and ready. Behind him was Natasha ― who had already been dressed. Clint stood and Blue watched them, the nervous flutters in his stomach coming back and he bit his lip. "You ready?"

Blue swallowed, but Clint patted his knee. "Don't worry, we'll keep you safe." Blue nodded slowly, and Clint held out a hand, helping him to his feet.

"Let's get this over with, boys," Natasha said, and they all walked to the elevator.

**a·s·u·l**

  
Blue felt like he couldn't breathe. He could see his Master's building across the street. They were sitting in a big car, and nobody seemed to notice him --- notice any of them. Blue could see the front doors from where he sat. Someone knocked on the door, and it opened, letting them slip inside.

Blue stared, his fangs had popped in worry and sweat rolled down his face. "Hey, B?" Steve spoke, and he jumped. Steve gave him a gentle smile. He still smelled like apples and seawater. "You don't have to come inside. You can stay out here with Bruce."

Blue licked his lips, turning back to the building. The idea was tempting. Wait for Steve and the others to go in, and come back out with his Master.

Blue thought about the beast he fought before, and the other dogs he fought on a nearly daily basis. He thought about the men inside with guns and knives who kicked him around if they could get their hands on him.

He thought about his Master. His dark eyes and large, calloused hands. His frequently bruised knuckles and scars that held stories behind them.

" _B_?" Steve said, and Blue shook his head.

"Help," he said, and. Steve smiled proudly.

"Okay, well we'll be going in soon. If you want to come, you need to wear this," he held up a heavy looking black, bulky vest. Blue took it and slipped it on over his shirt. "And, _here_ ," he handed Blue a small black thing. "It goes in your ear. It helps us communicate."

Blue nodded and Steve helped him put it in his ear and turn it on. He winced when it beeped, and Steve turned the volume down a bit. "Last chance," Steve said. "You sure you want to do this?" Blue nodded again, "Alright. Let's go."

**b·u·l·u·u**

  
Steve was steps behind Blue as he came to the side of the building. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to a door around the corner ― the same one he came in the other night. There was a new chain on the door, securing it.

Blue came over and yanked the chain off easily, breaking it. Steve rose an eyebrow and Blue waited a moment, holding a hand out to stop Steve.

The door opened and Blue moved. Steve jumped in, knocking his head into the door. He fell, blood trickling down his forehead. Steve walked in, and Blue went to the wall. He easily climbed up the side of the building and lifted up his Master's office window.

He slipped inside, and saw his Master standing there, a gun to his forehead. Blue moved the gun, just as it went off. It hit bullet hit the floor, splintering wood everywhere.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" His Master growled. Blue flinched, breathe in, and out. " _Answer me_!" He pushed him, and Blue stumbled back. Before he could retaliate, his Master punched him in the stomach. Blue doubled over, coughing.

He elbowed him in the neck, and Blue crumbled, falling on the ground, "Did you kill him?" His Master demanded.

"Still―" his gun went off and Blue felt as if his calf had been sliced open. He let out a cry of pain, whining, squeezing his eyes shut.

His Master grabbed his leg and squeezed. Blue screamed, writhing on the ground, trying to pull his leg away. "Where have you been!?" He demanded, Blue whined, trying to breath in ― out ― in out ― in ― in

_"I'll squeeze all the blood out of you!"_

  
" _Please_ ―!" Blue gasped. This was a _terrible_ idea. Blue was going to die because he didn't kill Steve. Blue was going to die for disrespecting his Master. Blue was going to die for disobeying his Master. He should have killed Steve ― he should have killed himself!

"Boss! The fuckin' _Avengers_ are here! We gotta _go_ ―!" The man didn't finish. Something shot him in the back and he convulsed before falling down, an arrow sticking out of is back.

His Master yanked Blue to his feet, and pressed the gun to Blue's head. Blue hissed when he put weight on his foot, squeezing his eyes shut. "Put him _down_ ," Clint said, walking in the room. Behind him, was Steve, his shield up and ready to attack.

Blue looked at him, terrified. Then, he felt his Master move him closer to whisper something.

"Kill them, or I'll call the doctor and ship you back for _dissection_." Blue felt as if someone had poured ice down his spine. He knew his Master was serious ― it happened before.

Another boy, five years ago, came to his Master. He was just like Blue before the injections, scared and angry. When his Master put him in the ring, the boy wouldn't fight, no matter what disciplines his Master did.

Finally, his Master put him in a crate and Blue never saw him again. Until, a few weeks later. His Master showed him a video. Blue had never seen a video before that, and he never wanted to see one after.

It was a live feed of the boy he sent away, being dissected _alive_. He was screaming and squirming on the table, tears running down his face as the men and women, came around him. His Master made him watch as they sliced his chest open, and took out organ by organ identifying its purpose as use. Blood was _everywhere_ , and eventually the little boy had stopped struggling.

When they finished and the boy was reverted to mere parts laid out like a machine, they ― _horrifically_ ― began to reassemble him. They put the organs back in place, stitching up the skin and completely desecrating the boy's body. At the end, they applauded themselves.

_"That'll be you, if you ever try don't do as I tell you."_

  
Blue listened. Blue obeyed. Blue did not want to die ― not like that. _Never_ like that.

His Master let go of his arm, and dropped the gun. He was smirking and raised his hands over his head. "Kill them," He said, and Blue attacked.

He went for Clint first, his fangs snagging on the man's arm, he dropped the bow immediately, hissing and yanking his arm away. " _Blue_!?" Steve said, and tried to grab Blue around the waist. Blue elbowed him in the nose. He heard a crack and Steve stumbled back.

Clint grabbed Blue's arm and twisted him around so that his hand could touch the middle of his back. "I don't know _what_ he told you, but you need to _stop_ fighting us!" Clint hissed, and Blue looked back at the man, who was trying to leave.

Natasha slipped through the window and had an arm pointed at him, ready to fire. Blue snapped his arm away, and felt the white-hot crack of it dislocating. He hissed, falling to the ground, and slipping his legs under Clint.

Clint fell on his behind and Steve grabbed his shield, about to knock the base on Blue's head. Blue grabbed it, managing to scrap it along the wood instead of in his head.

"Need back-up," Clint grunted, and Blue heard a gun go off. His Master and Natasha were fighting, and it looked like Natasha had been winning. "Some help would be appreciated, Tony."

Steve pinned Blue to the floor, holding his arms above him, " _Snap out of it_!" Steve ordered. Blue kneed him in the side and sank his claws in Steve's hand. Steve hissed, wincing, and Blue hit him again.

Steve finally let go, and Blue swung his legs around him, wrapping his arms under Steve's neck as the man tried to pry him away, gagging. Clint grabbed an arrow and stabbed Blue's leg with it. He felt pain and electricity course through his body, and he howled in pain, releasing Steve.

He saw red-and-gold metal suit fly in the room through the window, his hands pointed at both Blue and his Master. His Master saw the man and grimace, " _Stand down, now,_ " It demanded, and Blue recognized Tony's voice.

Blue breathed, his arms shaking and feeling exhausted. He saw his Master stare at Tony before raising his gun. Natasha saw what he was pointing at, but didn't get to stop him fast enough.

His Master shot the large cabinet showcasing his array of guns and ammunition twice. Blue dove, shielding Steve with his back just as he felt a sharp, burning wave of heat.

They both flew back, hitting the wall. Blue coughed, smoke quickly filling the room. Blue's back _burned_ and he didn't want to move at all. His ears rang loudly, and he rubbed at them, wincing. He looked down, Steve was blearily looking around, his shield in his hand by his side.

Blue looked, squinting through the sudden smoke and flames. Clint was a few feet away, coughing and hacking, as flames spread just behind him.

Blue stumbled to his feet, going over and grabbing Clint's arm, trying to drag him away. He breathed heavily, trying to see through the smoke. Something was shining through the smoke, and a minute later, Tony was in front of him, he waved towards Clint, trying to say something, but Blue couldn't hear him. Tony grabbed Clint's arm, heaving him over his shoulder.

Blue looked around, Steve was across the room, helping Natasha get out the window. Tony's hand closed around Blue's wrist, but Blue yanked his arm away, looking, confused.

The flames cracked and popped around him, and Blue saw the body of his Master in it. Blue ran, coughing as the flames burned his legs and arms. Blue whined, trying to drag his Master away.

_"Protect your Master at all costs ― even if you have to die to do so."_

  
Blue choked, his legs and arms feeling as if they were going to fall off, but he couldn't leave his Master here. He couldn't leave his Master to die. He had to save his Master. He had to save his life. Protect him at all costs. Failure wasn't an option. Breathe in, failure wasn't an option, out. Save him, steady and consistent and _coughing_. Steady and ― breath in ― steady ― out.

He heard a crack and huddled over his Master's body, He couldn't breathe ― he was going to die ― he couldn't breathe ― help ― Steve, apples and seawater Steve ― _**help**_ ― couldn't breathe ― the doctor

He felt something wrap around his body, but Blue clung to his Master. Someone was shouting, and a minute later, both he and his Master were picked up, and flown out of the room.

Blue was shaking and he couldn't stop and he couldn't breathe and he was going to die and everything hurt and he was so tired and

"Look at me! _Hey_! Don't close your eyes! Look at me, Blue!" Someone shouted at him, but everything hurt so bad.

"There you are, B," they laughed. "Hey, hey, eyes on me, keep your eyes on me, alright? Okay?" Blue moaned, "I know it hurts, I _know_ ―"

"That's what happens when you run into a _fire_!" Someone snapped.

" _Shut the hell up, Stark_!"

Blue's eyes rolled back, and for a minute there was blissful silence and peace and he was so _sleepy_ ―

"Wake _up_!" Someone pinched him and Blue hissed, tears sprouting. Everything was loud, and someone was grabbing him and strapping something on his face.

"Breathe for me, okay kid?" Someone said. He felt someone touch his legs and he whined. "Second-degree burns on his legs."

"Keep him awake!"

"Blue, look at me," Someone held his hand. "Hey there, B. You're going to be okay, alright? Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

That was the last thing Blue heard.


	14. 13 | Blue Miracles

**Chapter Thirteen:**

Blue was the luckiest boy on earth, according to Bruce.

After being under close examination and treated for severe burns on his arms and legs for over three hours, Bruce announced that the boy would be okay.

“If it was anyone else, and I mean _anyone_ ,” The doctor explained, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion and stress. “They would’ve died.” Bruce sat down in the sitting private sitting room in the intensive care unit of the hospital. The room was empty but for the other Avengers.

“How is he alive, then?” Natasha asked.

“The cancer,” Bruce said, and gave a small smile. “Remember when I told you he was practically a walking, talking tumor? Well, the skin cells that were burned shed off after a few hours. He’s regrowing the new skin as we speak.” The others stared at Bruce, but he didn’t seem to be done yet. “And, that vest he had on, it protected his chest and his vital organs, if he didn't have that, he probably would have died, despite the cancer. They set his shoulder back in place, and took the bullet out of his calf. He’ll need a few days to heal, but he’ll be fine, aside from the bullet wound. That’ll need a little more time.”

The room let out an exhale and Steve draped a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes. _Boy Wonder_ , that was what he was going to start calling him. “What about McAllister?” Clint asked, and Bruce grimace.

“Nowhere near as good. He has several third-degree burns. He’s being kept in a medical coma while he’s being treated. He’ll live, but it’ll be hard.”

“Good,” Steve muttered, and everyone else voiced their agreements.

“When can we see the kid?” Tony asked, just as the door opened and the actual doctor treating him ― Dr. Sierra Amari, and a close friend of Bruce’s ― stepped in.

“Tomorrow,” She answered. “He’s asleep now, and we’ll keep him under for the night, just so no complications arise. Dr. Banner told me that he’s had. . . _episodes_ in the past.”

Steve nodded and stood, “We’ll be here as soon as visiting hours starts.”

Dr. Amari chuckled, “I wouldn’t put it past you. You all should go home ― have you been checked?”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve smiled, and the doctor nodded.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” She gave a smirk and turned, walking out of the room.

**t·u·r·c·h·i·n·u**

  
Steve arrived back at the hospital at nine o’clock on the dot. With him, was Natasha and Clint. Tony had to hang back because Pepper insisted he’d go to a meeting involving new real estate first.

Blue was still asleep when they came in. He was in a far better condition than when Steve last saw him. The ash covering face had been cleaned and his shoulder was wrapped in tight bandages. His leg was propped up under a few pillows, and bandage securely. Aside from an IV and a few taped down patches that connected him to the heart rate monitor, he looked fine.

Natasha touched his pants leg, seeing the newly-grown skin for herself. “Miracle boy,” She muttered and Steve chuckled, moving to sit.

“After this is over, I’m buying a lotto ticket and having him scratch it,” Clint said, and Steve laughed, shaking his head.

He sat down in one of the chairs beside the bed, setting the bag of goodies for him at his feet. As soon as they left the hospital the day before, they had all unanimous agreed to go shopping. Now, Blue had a new collection of blue stuffed animals, sweets, clothes, books, and a flowers. Clint insisted on getting the flowers so he could make him a crown out of them while they waited for him to wake up.

However, that didn’t seem to be the case. Blue moaned, inhaling sharply. His eyes peeled open and he looked at Steve, blinking blearly.

Steve smiled, “Morning,” He greeted. Blue squinted and yawned, his fangs falling out as he did. He moved, looking around.

Blue jumped to attention, sitting up quickly. Steve reached over, setting a hand on his chest. “No, lay back down. You need to rest.” Blue looked at him, and then at Natasha and Clint, who smiled.

“Where―?” He croaked, then coughed badly, his shoulders tensing. Clint stood, going to the table with the water pitcher and pouring him a cup of water.

“You’re in the hospital,” Steve explained as Clint handed him the cup. Blue downed it immediately, and Clint poured him more. “You’re going to be fine. You just need to rest for a few days.”

Blue was quiet. “Hey, dude,” Clint said gently, and Blue looked at him. “How you feeling?”

“Where ― Master?” Blue asked, and Clint’s smile faltered a bit.

“He’s. . . getting help,” Clint answered, “Don’t worry about him. How do you feel?”

Blue frowned, “Master ― alive?”

“ _Blue_ ―”

“Protect ― Master,” Blue said, almost robotically. “Me ― save.”

“You did,” Natasha said, “You saved his life. You did good, B.” Blue visibly relaxed, and laid back down.

The room went quiet, but Clint began to talk again, “Hey, wanna learn some new words?” Blue gave a small smile and nodded. “ _Great_!” He walked back to his chair and pulled out a book he bought for him, “This is a ASL book, we can go through it together.” Blue’s eyes lit up in excitement, and Clint handed him the book. He flipped through the pages, eyes wide and smiling.

“Books ― like,” He said, grinning. Steve couldn’t help the smile on his own face.

“Here, let’s start out with a few,” Clint said, and Blue looked at him. He made a fist and shook it up and down while shaking his head, “That’s ‘ _yes_ ’.” Blue raised a hand and mimicked the motion.

“Yes,” He said.

“You got it,” Clint praised. “And, this,” He held out two fingers and shook them side to side, with his head mimicking the action. “That’s ‘ _no_ ’.” Blue repeated it, shaking his fingers slowly.

“Good job, dude,” Clint smiled.

Blue looked so happy. He turned to Steve and signed, [ _Blue ― yes ― B ― no_ ].

Steve chuckled, “Good job, B.”

Blue turned to Clint, “More?”

“Of course,” He pressed his fingers together and tapped the tips. “That’s the sign for ‘ _more_ ’. And,” he touched his forehead, waving it, “That’s hello.” Blue repeated it over and over again.

Clint taught Blue a few more signs, including stop, goodbye, hot, cold, and help. Blue repeated the signs to himself slowly, memorizing them. Steve presented his gifts to the boy, which had been a blue bear holding chocolates. He didn’t quite know what the boy would like, but as soon as he gave it to him, he looked giddy with happiness. Steve showed him the chocolate kisses and Blue experimentally ate one, then another one, then another. Steve had to stop him before they had a repeat of breakfast the other morning.

About an hour after Blue woke up, Tony and Bruce arrived. Blue was excited, and signed, [ _Hello_!] about ten times.

Doctor Amari came in a few times, and introduced herself to him. Blue was a bit wary around her, but easily eased up to her comfortable smiles and warm words. He let himself get his blood drawn ― even though he nearly broke the hospital bed from gripping it so hard in the process ― and his breathing checked.

They spent the morning and most of the afternoon together, before Blue finally was exhausted from so much interaction and fell asleep in the mound of stuffed animals and candy wrappers.

While he was sleeping, Doctor Amari pulled them aside to talk. “There’s signs of swelling from the smoke inhalation, so I’ll keep him here another night so he can sleep with an oxygen mask. Otherwise, he can go home tomorrow. I’ll write a note for him to get an inhaler and standard painkillers for his leg, in case it starts to hurt. If you notice any kind of swelling or irritation, come to me ― not Bruce, he can only go so far.”

“I might go back to med-school just to get my Ph. D in that too,” Bruce teased and Dr. Amari clutched her chest and rolled her eyes.

“Anything but that ― I might go into cardiac arrest,” Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. “Getting back on topic, Blue will be fine. He’ll be back on his feet in days, if that. Mr. McAllister will need more time to get sturdy, but he’s stable now. I can take him off of meds for questioning. It’ll have to be supervised by a nurse or doctor.”

“That’ll be good,” Steve said.

Tony’s phone rang. He turned away and touched his ear, answering it with a, “Tony Stark speaking.” He stepped down the hall to continue speaking privately.

“Blue needs his rest, but you can check him out tomorrow morning, as long as there is no complications.”

“Thanks Amari,” Bruce said gratefully, and the woman smiled.

“He’s a nice kid,” She said, then shrugged. “And, it’s kind of my job.” She nodded to the others, about to walk off, but Steve stopped her.

“Wait,” he said. “Can one of us stay here for the night? Just to make sure there aren’t any complications?”

Doctor Amari frowned, considering this carefully, “Don’t keep him up all night,” she warned, and Steve smiled gratefully, thanking the woman.

Steve agreed to stay behind while Natasha and Clint went to go talk to McAllister when he woke up.

Blue was still in the bed, his mouth open and drooling and looking absolutely exhausted. Steve smiled, and moved to sit in the chair. He leaned back, comfortably watching the boy.

About five minutes later, Tony came in the room, “Yes, ma'am, he's right here,” Tony said, and handed the phone to Steve. He mouthed, ‘ _Blue's Mom_ ’, before taking a step back.

Steve awkwardly put the phone to his ear. “Hello, ma’am, Steven Rogers speak―”

“ _I don't care who is speaking!_ ” She snapped, “ _I want to speak with my son!_ ” Her voice cracked. She sounded like she had been crying.

“Your son was in an accident, ma'am,” Steve said calmly. “He is currently resting at the moment, but I can get him to―”

“ _I want him here_ ,” she snapped. “ _That is my son, he's still in my custody. I want him here as soon as he is able to walk_.”

Steve frowned, “Yes ma'am. Would you like me to call you when he wakes up?”

The woman was quiet for a moment, “ _Yes_ ,” she said. “ _Please_.”

“Alright then,” Steve said, keeping his voice even. “We'll bring him over as soon as he is released.”

The woman was silent, and then he hard a quiet sob. “ _Thank you_ ,” she said, and Steve felt a sharp pang of pity. “ _Thank you so much, Mr. Rogers._ ”

“My pleasure, ma'am,” Steve replied. “We'll keep you updated.”

“ _Alright then_ ,” she sniffed, then there was a click, and the line went dead.

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and looked over at Tony who looked absolutely shocked. “What the _hell_ , Steve!?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, confused.

“We agreed to _screen her_ first, not drag him over there as soon as he could walk!”

“Tony, did you even _hear_ that woman speaking?” Steve asked, slightly shocked. “She _needs_ Blue back.”

“Blue isn't in the right place to be with his mother right now,” Tony frowned. “What if he tried to kill her? And, she doesn't know what he is now ― what he's _become_.”

Steve sighed, he knew that Tony was right. He looked down at Blue, who was still sound asleep. “We'll go with the plan. Supervised visits until we are sure they can be together.”

“And, if they can't?”

“We explain it to her. Explain what his mental state is like. We get them _both_ the help they need.”

Tony sighed, looking away. “We won't know how he reacts until their together.”

“I know,” Tony huffed, “I have to head out ― meetings to finalize the company transfer. You staying here?”

“Just to make sure no complications arise,” He replied. “Nightmares, panic attacks, you know.”

Tony nodded, “As long as you don't end up on the opposite side of those teeth, I'm game.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “See you, Stark.” Tony gave a nod and a gentle pat on Blue’s uninjured leg before leaving the room.


	15. 14 | Blue Threats

**Chapter Fourteen:**

Clint watched the man laying on the hospital bed. He remembered the rugged face of the man who held Blue by the shoulder, a gun to his head. He remembered the smirk that stuck on his face after he whispered something in Blue's ears that nobody seemed to know. He remembered how Blue's eyes went wide, the instinctual fear imbued after years of abuse and submissiveness. He remembered the look in his eyes, the same look he remembered he saw in his brother, all those years ago.

Clint frowned and tried not to think about it. He inhaled, slowly popping his fingers. McAllister was covered in bandages and had wires sticking from his arms and chest. His wrists and ankles were strapped to the bars of the hospital bed. If it were up to Clint, he'd be strung up by his toes.

But apparently, that was unrealistic.

"Ready?" Natasha asked, standing beside him.

Clint stared at the man on the screen in front of him. His dark eyes ― just as Blue described ― were glaring at the nurse beside him, working with his IV drop. His mouth was moving, " _Whatcha doin' in a place like this, Tits? Pretty girl like you should be on your knees, don'tcha think?_ "

Clint swallowed, "I might kill this man," He admitted ruefully.

"You and me both," Natasha agreed, also seeing what the man was saying. "Let's do it after we get the answers Blue deserves."

This, at least, cheered Clint up a little. He nodded and they moved from the security room, going to the hospital room. Behind them, was a security guard, supervising the interrogation.

McAllister grinned, "Hello beautiful," He sneered at Natasha, who didn't look amused at all. His dark eyes slid over to Clint, "An' arrow man! What a date! An' all for me, you shouldn't have."

Natasha stepped over to the bed, "We're here to ask you a few questions about Blue."

McAllister scoffed, "Oh, him. Y'know, he's no use to you, if you're plannin' on keepin' him. Don't think the Avengers would be interesting in dog fightin', but," He tried to shrug, but then hissed in pain. His shoulders were wrapped in white bandages that were stained in splotches of red.

"Where did you find him?" Clint asked gruffly.

"He was shipped to me," McAllister grinned. "Packaged an' delivered. Lovely gift ― you can look him up on Amazon."

Natasha took a step forward, "Mr. McAllister," She said slowly. "Blue is under intense care at the moment, however to get him the help he needs, we need to know where you got him from. Surely, you wouldn't want all the money you've spent on him ― and all the money he's earned for you ― to go down the drain."

Natasha leaned over the bar on the hospital bed, "Take a step back, ma'am," the security guard advised. Clint saw McAllister's bandaged face twitch in somewhat of a smile. Natasha lingered for a moment, and then moved back, drumming her fingers on the bar.

Clint worked immediately, moving his hand to his wrist, keeping eye-contact with the man as he remotely activated the security system hijack. It took a moment, but then the fire alarm went off.

The security guard moved with a trained fashion, but Clint was faster, wrapping his arm around the man's neck. He struggled for several seconds, his hands large and calloused, but eventually, his body slipped.

Clint laid him on the ground, and moved to the door, locking it and closing the blinds over the small window. McAllister looked back and forth, getting a bit wary, "Now, Mr. McAllister," Natasha spoke, her cold eyes boring into the immobilized man before her. She easily reached over the hospital bar, her fingers closing around a particularly bloody wound on his forearm. He winced, jerking away, but had nowhere to go, or to defend himself. "Tell me where you got Blue."

"You. . ." He hissed, when Natasha squeezed harder. "I'm not telling you anythin'!" He hissed.

Natasha looked back at Clint, "You heard him. He's not telling us anything."

Clint smiled, "You know, I was hoping he'd say that." Clint stepped forward, rolling up the man's pants leg ― maybe the only place that wasn't wrapped in extensive lengths of bandages. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this."

McAllister was beginning to get nervous, he tensed in the bed as Clint pulled a miniature arrow from his pocket. "What are you doing with that toothpick?" He laughed, but it stopped when Clint pressed a button, and it extended to it's full length.

"I'll ask you one more time," Natasha said, as Clint flicked a switch, firing up the electrical arrow ― the same one he had shot at one of McAllister's goons. "Where did you get him from?"

McAllister swallowed, but his lips were sealed. Clint shrugged innocently, then plunged it into his calf. McAllister hissed, letting out a groan. His body convulsed on the bed, his fists tightening. Clint briefly let go, giving the man a chance to speak up. After about fifteen seconds of him panting and trying to catch his breath, Clint put the arrow in his calf again.

"Unngh! Okay! Okay!" He blurted, and Clint lingered for a moment before letting up.

"Speak," Natasha snapped and McAllister breathed, his eyes shut, and sweat leaking through his bandages. If they didn't need the man for information, Clint would've shocked him enough so he'd have a heart attack right there.

"It's this. . ." McAllister trailed off, second-guessing his decision. Clint moved to shock him again, but the man loosened his tongue. "It's an organization! Run by the government. Look it's. . . it's a big thing, and if I–I tell you much else. . ."

"Clint," Natasha said, and Clint moved, wanting to chop the man's leg off if they had to.

"Stop!" He snapped, and Clint waited, centimeters before the reddened skin on the man's leg. He saw the hairs raise to attention as the proximity of the electricity. "The one that I got him from, it specializes using animals to increase the adaptive skills in humans."

"' _The one_ '?" Clint asked, frowning. "There's more?"

"I told you, it's a big thing," he snapped, annoyed. Clint pressed the arrow into his leg, giving him a jolt of submission. " _Shit_!" He growled when Clint pulled back.

"How many others are there?" Natasha asked.

"I don't know," he said, and Clint moved in. "I don't!" He repeated, glaring at Clint. "Look, man, all I know is that the Providers get the ratty kids and pass them out, alright? That's it."

"Who are the Providers?" Clint asked.

"I don't know the details," McAllister admitted, his hands trembling. "All I know, is that the Providers pick up the kids, and dish them out. I got the dog from my. . . from a guy I know."

Clint's eyes narrowed, "Blue isn't a _dog_. He's a person."

McAllister scoffed, "Don't kid yourself. You ask him to do anythin' an' he'll do it. This is the only assignment that he's screwed up with."

"Because you _brainwashed_ him," Clint snapped, his fist clenching, ready to pound the man's face in.

"Because he is a _dog_ ," McAllister insisted, getting a little red in the face, and he began to breathe a little faster. "He's a dog and _I'm_ his Master. I don't even know what he'll do with himself if I'm gone ― he needs a Master, can't live without one."

"What do you mean by that?" Natasha asked.

"He'll be lost," McAllister admitted, and swallowed hard, his eyes trailing to the ceiling. His shaking began to get clammy and his face was the shade of a tomato. "Might kill himself, if he can't find one. Or, go. . ." He trailed off, staring at the ceiling. His began to shake, foam emerging from his mouth. He tried to work his throat, his heart machine beeping rapidly.

They seemed to realize that the man was dying at the same time. Natasha moved quickly, grabbing the defibrillator, pulling the cart over, but it was no use. His heart rate declined and his eyes stared, unseeing at the ceiling.

Clint glared, throwing the arrow on the ground, " _Shit_!" He snapped, anger and frustration filling him.

"Whoever poisoned him didn't do it fast enough," Natasha said. "We got a lot of information from him."

Clint nodded stiffly and picked up the arrow, compressing it and sticking it into his pocket. "Let's go meet up with the others," Clint said. "See how Blue's doing."

Natasha nodded, and they both exited the room, leaving the dead man in the bed and the unconscious one on the floor.

**b•l•å**

  
Clint found Steve and Blue on the opposite sidewalk of the hospital. Blue was standing behind Steve, his eyes wide and scared. Clint caught the boy's eyes and smiled, [ _Hello, B_ ,] he greeted, too far away for the boy to hear him.

He saw the boy relax a little, [ _Hello, C-L-I-N-T,_ ] he replied, his fingers going especially slowly as he did the letters.

Steve saw the two Avengers walking towards them, "What did you find out?" He asked.

"We'll do a debriefing tomorrow," Natasha said. "There's a lot."

Steve rose an eyebrow, "How much did he tell you?"

"Enough," Clint replied. "And, he's dead." Blue went still, his eyes widened.

"Master ― dead?" He asked, his mouth slightly agape.

Clint winced, he shouldn't have said that in front of the boy. "Uh. . . yes. I'm sorry, B." Blue didn't say anything, he didn't even move. Clint had expected regret or relief, or even a smile. But instead, he got cold silence. "B? Are you okay?"

Blue didn't say a word. He was staring at the ground. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him do to something. Finally, he spoke, " _Cold_."

Steve answered his comment, "We can go back inside soon, don't worry." Blue nodded slowly, but the cold expression didn't leave his face. Clint wished he could read the boy's mind and ease his thoughts.

They stood outside for another ten minutes while the fire department checked the medical building, making sure it was safe for everyone. Eventually, the were allowed back to their rooms. Blue was in a wheelchair because of his leg and shoulder ― Dr. Amari didn't want him to dislocate it again.

Clint and Natasha left a few hours later. They said goodnight to Blue before leaving, but Blue seemed for the most part, unresponsive. When he was back in his bed, he rolled over, facing away from everyone and closed his eyes.

They exchanged glances before unanimously deciding to leave the boy alone. Steve would be staying with Blue for the night. If anything serious happened, he would report it to them. Meanwhile, Clint and Natasha would be debriefing the information to the other Avengers.

"An government-run organization that takes kids and turns them into. . . _animals_?" Tony said, staring at Clint and Natasha as if the information was completely absurd ― which would've been true, had they not met Blue.

"How is that not _only_ one?" Bruce asked, "How are there more?"

"By the way he put it, it made it sound like the one Blue came from was only a. . . branch that uses the ' _Providers_ ' for their experiments," Natasha explained.

"Well, if there are more than one group that uses kids for this. . ." Tony waved his hand, looking for a word. " _Thing_ , what else are they using them for?"

"We don't know," Clint replied. "But, there may be a way to find out. When he talked about who he got Blue from, he used ' _my_ ', suggesting someone close, before saying something else."

"He could've been saying anything, my dealer, my Provider," Bruce said.

"He tried to change it out with something else," Natasha said. "And by this point, he had already mentioned the Providers. And, the way he said it, ' _a guy I know_ ', he was trying to cover for that person. It had to be someone close to him or someone he met with along the span of his life We need to go through his records, see who he's come in contact with several times over his life ― someone who went into science."

Tony nodded, "Anything else?"

Clint thought for a moment, "Nothing we didn't know. He said Blue was a dog, but we expected that. He also said that Blue would probably die if nobody was taking care of him ― he wasn't acting like a slave." Clint shook his head, the thought making him sick. "The man was half dead at that point, so I'd take it with a grain of salt."

The others nodded agreeing. Tony sat a big taller in his seat, "I have a bit of news," He announced. "I contacted Blue's mother, and she answered this morning. She wants Blue back home as soon as possible."

Bruce nodded, smiling, "That's good. It'll be good for him to reconnect with her."

"Yeah, I think so too," Tony said, but Natasha's eyes narrowed.

"Are you telling us everything?" She asked suspiciously, and the man pressed his lips together.

"She was dealing with drug abuse for a while," Tony admitted. "She's been clean for a while, but. . . he's obviously still fragile, I mean, the kid nearly killed you, Clint, when McAllister told him. I don't think he's safe to go out in public yet."

"It's his mother, Tony," Natasha frowned, and Tony sighed, shaking his head.

"Never mind," He grumbled, pushing from his seat at the round table. "Keep me updated ― I'll be in my workshop," He announced, and before anyone could stop him, he was already gone.


	16. 15 | Blue Thoughts

**Chapter Fifteen:**

Blue hadn’t slept in hours. He stared at the ceiling, listening to Steve snore lightly in the chair beside him and the soft humming of the machines around him. Doctor Amari had put something on his face that she called an ‘ _oxygen mask_ ’. It was supposed to help him breathe better.

Blue didn’t think it was working. He felt like he couldn’t breathe at all. He tried to focus on it, in and out and in and out and in and out

Then, he would think about his Master and all he could breathe was in and in and in ― _in ― in ― in_

Blue closed his eyes, trying to gather his jumbled thoughts. His Master was dead ― Blue didn’t do his job, he didn’t keep him safe. Now what was he supposed to do?

No. Blue knew what he was supposed to do.

_“If your Master dies or is comprised, you will return here and await instructions.”_

  
That was so long ago. That was ten years ago. Blue was supposed to go back to his old Master, to the doctor. He needed to go now ― he should go now, while he still could and wasn’t in the unnecessarily tall tower. These were his new orders. This was his instructions.

Then, he looked at Steve, who was asleep on the chair. He didn’t hurt him. He didn’t discipline him. He was Steve, he was smiles and laughs and apples and seawater and “ _don’t worry, B_.” He helped him, even when Blue tried to kill him ― more than once.

Then, he thought about Clint, who taught him things Blue never knew, like his name in the sign language. Or, the food, oh the food. Blue never knew that food could taste like anything other than kibble. After eating people food, Blue never wanted to go back to eating kibble again.

Blue looked at the ceiling. This was what was keeping him in his bed ― this was what was disobeying his Master. Blue couldn’t do it, he didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay there and laugh with them and try more foods and learn new words and be a person.

Blue wanted to be a person. The thought filled him with something Blue couldn’t describe. Happiness? _Guilt_? Blue swallowed a knot in his throat. He couldn’t be a person, he scolded himself. He wasn’t a person ― Blue was a dog, he was his Master’s dog. He was nothing, he wasn’t a person. Thinking like that would get him disciplined. Thinking like that would get him killed. Blue was a dog and dogs follow orders, no matter how hard or how old they are.

Blue looked back at Steve, and suddenly he felt glued to the bed again. He didn’t want to leave this place ― this life he had just experience. He wanted to live, he’s always wanted to live. He wanted to. . . to have _fun_ , with them. He wanted to be happy with them, why couldn’t Blue be happy?

_“You’re a dog, you hear me? You’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you. You’re mine.”_

  
Blue covered is face with his hands, slightly ruffling the thin blankets he was given. Steve turned in his chair, muttering and rubbing his neck. Blue stared at the man. What would Blue even do if he stayed here? Would Steve be his Master? Would Blue’s old Master give him to Steve, if he asked?

What would his Master do if he went back? Would he be dissected? Would he be killed for letting his Master die? Would he be given away?

Blue remembered being in the crate vividly. Days without water and food and in complete darkness.

Blue remembered his cage, too. If he went back, would he be given a new cage? If he went with Steve, would he have to sleep in a cage? Or, would he keep sleeping on the couch or on the blanket?

Would Blue be given. . . a _bed_? The thought almost seemed unrealistic, until he remembered that he was in a bed right now. It wasn’t a bed at the Tower, but still.

Steve would want Blue to do so many things that Blue knew he couldn’t do. What would Blue do? If his Master, old or new, had found out what he had done in the past week, he would be disciplined so severely. . . the thought made Blue sick. He didn’t want to think about it.

So, he focused on getting out of the bed. Well, really, the concept of getting out of the bed. Blue shook his head, he was being silly, he had to go! He had to leave! He couldn’t stay here, what was he doing!?

Blue thought about his Master’s words again.

_“You will return here and await instructions.”_

  
Blue didn’t want to go back to his old Master. He didn’t want to be put in a cage again.

_“I’ll send you to the doctor for dissection!”_

  
Blue covered his face again, his lip trembling. This wasn’t a choice, this wasn’t a ‘ _which one do you want to do, B?_ ’ this was an order. Blue followed orders. Blue had to follow orders.

So why was he _still_ in this bed!?

Blue let out a soft whine, closing his eyes, but it was muffled by the oxygen mask on his face. Still, Steve shifted. Blue could imagine his pale blue eyes opening and settling on him. Blue could see it clearly in the dark room ― he could see everything clearly in the room. Blue wondered if he was always able to see like this, or if it was another one of his old Master’s changes.

“ _Hey_ ,” Steve’s would say. Just like he always did, in that soft tone and gentle voice. _“I’m right here, are you okay, B?”_

Blue didn’t know what he would say to him. He only had so many words and whenever he tried to use them, they never sounded right to him. He wanted to tell Steve that he was scared and he wanted to make Steve understand his fear. He wanted to tell Steve all about his old Master and how nice he had been to him, unless Blue did something wrong ― but then he deserved it. He wanted to go home, he wanted his Master back, he wanted someone to tell him what to do.

Blue didn’t know. Blue couldn’t know. He wasn’t taught what to do. No, he was taught what to do. _He had his orders_! Go back to his old Master. Go back and be dissected and never see Steve or Clint or Tony or Natasha or Bruce again. Go and die and do it quietly because dogs don’t complain. Dogs don’t ask for help or scream or cry. Dogs do as their Master tells them.

Blue felt the hot tears grow in his eyes. He knew he was right, but he wanted to be wrong so bad. He wanted to hide, maybe he could hide, maybe if he hid, his Master wouldn’t find him.

No, he _couldn’t_ hide. If he did, his Master would _kill him_. He’d be dissected or burned alive, or had so many chemicals in him that he wouldn’t even be Blue anymore. Just like some of the other dogs ― some of the other animals. Maybe he would die. Maybe he could die ― maybe he should.

Blue looked at Steve again and he finally felt the hot tears running down his face. He sniffed, moving the oxygen mask to rub at his nose. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be a dog and in a cage and being injected and dissected and–and―

Blue closed his eyes, breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.

“ _Blue_?” Blue didn’t say anything. He thought it was his imagination. Then, he felt a hand on his arm. “Blue, are you okay?” Blue turned sharply, yanking his arm away. He saw Steve standing next to the bed, confused and concerned. “You’re crying ― what time is it?”

Steve looked at the watch on his arm. “Are you in pain? Do you need a nurse?” Blue shook his head, closing his eyes and rubbing at his face. “Then, what’s wrong?” Blue’s throat choked, how was he going to tell this to him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Blue shook his head again.

Blue pulled at the mask, taking it off his face, but he still didn’t know what to say. How was he going to tell him that he had to leave? That, he wasn’t a person, no matter what the man said or did? “ _Me_ ―” He managed to say, before his throat ― which was already sore enough ― was choked with a sob. He didn’t have time for this, he was wasting time. He couldn’t stay here.

“Is this about McAllister?” Steve asked, frowning. Blue only nodded, rubbing at his face. “Are you upset he’s. . . that he’s gone?” Blue didn’t know, he gave a shaky shrug, was he supposed to be upset?

“You don’t know?” Steve said, but he already knew the answer. Steve pressed his lips together, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Me―I―” He gasped, “Ma–Master―me―”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to,” Steve said, and gave a gentle smile. “Want to hear a story?” Blue blinked, a story?

Steve took his confusion for a yes. He picked his chair up and moved it closer to Blue’s bed, so that they were sitting parallel to each other. “I have a lot of them, you know. Hmm. . . my favourite would have to be. . . when I went to the World’s Exposition with my friend, Bucky, remember him?” Blue gave a slight nod, and Steve smiled continuing. “We were escorting two girls, he arranged it, Connie and Bonnie. I liked how their names rhymed, but I don’t remember which was which,” Steve chuckled. “Bucky always had girls hanging off his arm, but they never stayed. I think Connie, or Bonnie, I like one of them. She was sweet. He always tried to get me to get together with one of the other girls we knew, but I didn’t like girls that much back then.”

Steve frowned, “I don’t remember the Expo much, either. I remember there were a lot of lights ― not as many as there are today, though, but a lot. I felt like I could be apart of something, then. I was always going to the recruitment tents for the war, always signing up and always getting rejected.” Steve chucked, “Buck didn’t like that, when I would put my name down as different things, ‘ _Steve Willis_ ’, ‘ _Steve Benson_ ’. One time, I did ‘ _Steve Barnes_ ’, never seen him go so red in my life.”

“Where ― Bucky?” Blue asked curiously, and Steve smiled over at him.

“He died during the war. We. . . he was trying to save my life,” Steve wasn’t smiling anymore. Blue felt like he did something wrong. Steve realized, “It’s alright ― you can ask questions. I won’t get upset.” Blue wanted to tell Steve that questions were for people, but he knew how Steve acted to that ― he kept his mouth shut.

“Why were you crying, B?” Steve asked, and Blue blinked, remembering that he had been in his feelings before he woke Steve up.

“Me ― leave,” Blue explained. “Back Master ― orders.”

Steve scrunched his eyebrows up, like a sheet of paper. “Your Master is dead, B. You can’t follow his orders.”

“No ― old Master. Return ― dead, compromise,” Blue explained and sniffed. “No stay. Can’t stay.”

“Blue, you aren’t healthy yet,” Steve tried to reason. “And, what’ll happen to you if do go back?”

Blue shrugged, “Di―” He frowned, remember how to say the word. He moved his hand in a straight slicing motion, as if he were cutting open someone’s chest. “ _Dice-etch_ ,” he said slowly.

Steve stared at him, unpacking his words. Then, he realized what Blue said. His eyes went wide and his eyebrows jumped. He moved his hand to his mouth in horror, as he watched Blue getting slowly more concerned and scared. Steve wanted to say something, he tried to, but no noise would come out.

Finally he forced himself to swallow and rubbed at his sleepy eyes. “They. . .” He closed his eyes again, rubbing his forehead. “They. . . _dissect_ _you_ , if you. . . if you don’t. . .” Steve didn’t look like he was going to be sick. “Do you. . . _how_ do you know that?”

Blue made a small rectangle with his fingers, “Video.”

Steve looked like he was going to be sick. “Who showed you?”

“Master,” Blue looked down. “Boy ― scream. Sad ― scared.”

“That's not going to happen to you, Blue,” Steve assured, but Blue shook his head.

“Back ― _orders_. Master―”

“Hey, look at me,” Blue didn't want to look at Steve. The last time Steve said that he convinced Blue to take him to his Master. Now, look where that led them? “ _B_? Come on. Look at me,” Blue did ― reluctantly. “Remember when I told you your Master wasn't here and that he can't do anything to you?” Blue gave a slight nod. “Your other Master ― your old Master ― he isn't here either. We're going to keep you safe, alright? We're not going to let anything happen to you.”

Blue didn't believe him, but he nodded anyways. Blue had orders, and his orders were to return to his old Master if his new one died. The last time he disobeyed orders, his Master died and the base burned down.

Blue couldn't make the same mistake twice.


	17. 16 | Blue Memories

**Chapter Sixteen:**

Blue was tired the next morning. He didn't sleep at all, despite Steve's suggestions. He stayed awake, his thoughts full, and stared at the dark ceiling until sunlight pierced through the curtains.

A nurse came in later and was a bit startled to find him awake. " _Oh_!" She exclaimed, and the sound of her voice woke Steve up as well. "Sorry," she said, giving a apologetic smile to Steve as he rubbed his neck. Steve twisted it this way and that causing it to make loud _'pop pop pop's_.

"Don't be," Steve assured and smiled back at her. 

"Well, I'm just doing my morning rounds," she said cheerily, a pink tint to her cheeks. "I didn't know you were going to be here, Mr. Rogers."

Steve still smiled, "Just wanted to make sure he was okay during the night. Dr. Amari said it was fine?" This sounded more like a question, and the nurse fanned a hand at him.

"Don't worry. I just got a few things to check, but since, uh," she looked at the clipboard in her hands. "Blue is awake, I'll just ask him a few questions too. So you mind stepping out of the room, Mr. Rogers?"

Now Steve rose an eyebrow, "What for, if you don't mind my asking?"

"These concern some more. . . personal matters. It's necessary for all patients to be able to speak with hospital staff privately, when talking about one's health. Confidentiality, and all."

"Blue is a minor," Steve frowned.

"But, he officially has no one taking legal guardianship, at the moment," the nurse explained. "You'll have to go to the courthouse for that ruling, Mr. Rogers."

Steve nodded, deciding that it was too early to argue with her, and she was just doing her job. He glanced at Blue, who looked a little scared as Steve left the room. "Steve?" He called after the man. Steve leaned against the door and smiled at Blue.

"I'll be right back, Blue, don't worry," Steve promised, then left the room closing the door behind him.

Blue stared at the door for a few seconds, hoping he'd come back inside. Then, he looked at the nurse, who also waited until the door was closed. She turned around to the small countertop full of supplies, and pulled something out of her pocket.

Blue watched her with mild curiosity, wondering what exactly was going to transpire during her check-up. When she turned back around with the familiar syringe full of the unknown black substance, Blue froze.

"Due to recent circumstances, you probably won't be coming back to base for a while," the nurse informed coldly. Blue stared at the syringe in her hands, he suddenly remembered her voice, familiar to another one a long time ago.

_"My employers like to see them struggling."_

  
Blue went into a blind panic, trying to jump out of the bed, but with all the cords and wires attached to him, he couldn't leave without taking six other things with him.

And, of course, she wouldn't allow it either.

She grabbed his wrist, yanking back and climbed into the bed. "Your Master demands you sit still and listen," she growled and Blue did what he was told. He tried to breathe, in and out, but when he caught a glance at that syringe in her hand, all he could do was breathe _in ― in ― in ―_

Blue stopped struggling, and she continued to talk. "Your orders are as followed: Infiltrate the Avengers. At the first opportunity you get, _kill_ Steve Rogers. Report to base when you have finished. Is that clear?"

Blue gave a shaky nod. The woman smirked. "Now the fun part." She pushed Blue's head back and he hissed, but knowingly kept his mouth shut. The woman positioned the needle properly ― in the same angle and location that they always put it ― and pushed. It pierced through the frayed skin easily, it had been broken far too many times for it to be healed properly.

Blue felt the burning effects immediately when he pushed the contents inside in his body. Before the woman could get off of him, he pushed her. She went flying and hit the wall with a heavy thud. Blue curled up shaking and sweating as the door opened. Steve called his name, but helped the woman to her feet first.

Blue breathed heavily, closing his eyes. He thrashed, his claws shedding the blanket. His teeth bared, fangs out and ready. He felt like his senses were amplified by twenty, and he couldn't control it. Everything was loud and noisy and smelly and he couldn't breathe he couldn't in and out and failure wasn't an option in and out―

Someone was shaking his shoulders, screaming his name. It was so _loud_! Blue felt like his head was going to explode.

Blue gripped his hair, several strands pulling themselves out in clumps. Steve tried to get his hands away, but then he was pulled away.

Several other people brought his hands to his sides, barking orders to one another. Blue began to scream as they led Steve out of the room.

He growled angrily, trying to move the people out of his way. Steve was disappearing behind the door and they were going to lock him in here for another check-up --- for another discipline. Steve said he wouldn't be hurt anymore. Steve said he would help! Steve said he would keep him _safe_!

" _Steve_!!" Blue screamed, but it sounded like a wail. He didn't want to be alone, and his body felt like it was on fire. Someone grabbed his wrist, and dragged him back to the bed. Blue panicked and in a sudden movement, he bit them, his teeth breaking the skin easily.

They hollered in pain, yanking their hand away. Someone stabbed something into his thigh and his swiped a hand at them as they contents filled his system. He hissed angrily, his arms shaking and tears growing in his eyes. He wailed again, his body feeling heavy. He breathed, failure wasn't an option, out.

He fell back on the bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling in a daze. The doctors and nurses descended on him, touching his body and putting the sticky patches back on his chest. They put the needle back in his hand, and Blue hadn't even realized that it fell out. He turned to look at it while someone wiped at the blood that trickled out of it.

"Go to sleep, Blue," A woman advised lightly. Blue blinked again, his eyelids feeling as heavy as his body. He didn't want to sleep ― he wanted to go back to Steve. He wanted. . . he wanted to go to Steve. He had to kill him.

It were his Master's orders.

**m·o·d·r·ý**

  
When Blue opened his eyes again, Steve and Natasha were sitting down, talking in soft tones. " _Fake nurse. . . injected something in him. . . no name. . ._ "

Blue tried to sit up, but winced inhaling sharply, making them turn his way. "Don't move," Steve advised, standing. Blue stared at him, rubbing his head.

_"At the first opportunity you get, kill Steve Rogers."_

  
" _B_? Did you hear me?" Steve asked, coming closer. Blue's lip quivered, but he clenched his fists. "How are you feeling? Do you―?" Steve didn't finish, Blue's arm shot up, grabbing Steve's shirt and yanking him _down, down, down_ towards him. He could be quick, then he could go back to base. Steve didn't have to suffer.

Blue released his fangs, but before he could tear his throat out, Natasha pushed Steve away. His fangs nicked Natasha's arm, making it bleed immediately. Steve stared at him, his coral blue eyes wide in shock and betrayal. "Call a nurse," Natasha said immediately, "Put him back under."

Blue let out a whimper, his eyes big. "You tried to kill me," Steve breathed, as if he couldn't believe what just transpired.

"Orders," Blue whispered. Natasha grabbed the remote beside Blue and pressed a button quickly.

"Who ordered you to?" Steve demanded, but Blue looked down, shaking his head. "Was it a doctor? A nurse?" Blue didn't say anything, "Damn it, Blue, you're not making this any easier for yourself."

" _Orders_ ," Blue insisted. "Master ― _orders_!"

Steve frowned, and Blue felt a sudden pain in his chest that he couldn't understand or interpret. He whined as a nurse came in the room, smiling and cheery. It immediately disappeared when she recognized the tension in the air and the blood coming down Natasha's arm. "What happened?"

"Put him back under," Natasha ordered, and Blue's eyes went frantically from Natasha to the new nurse, to Steve.

The nurse looked concerned, "Is he in pain? I can give him some morphine, has it been fifteen minutes?"

"No, he's dangerous. He needs to be unconscious."

" _Uh_. . ." The nurse gave Natasha a wary look. Then, she looked at Steve as if it confirm this. "Too much general anesthesia might not be good for him. . . especially for his weight. . ."

Steve looked at Blue, who shook his head, silently begging for him not to do it. He didn't want to be asleep again, he wanted to explain, he wanted to obey his Master, but he didn't want Steve to die.

Steve saw his confliction and frowned, "Are you going to try to kill me again, B?" Steve asked slowly.

Blue wanted to shake his head, but he didn't know if it was true. " _Orders_ ," Blue whispered slowly.

"I can get restraints to put on him instead of putting him under, if that would make you feel safer?" The nurse suggested and immediately, Blue went into a panic, remembering the cold, blunt metal on his wrists that dug into his skin.

" _No! No!_ " Blue shouted, but nobody was listening to him. Blue rubbed his wrists, as if the metal was still attached to him, still chaining him to his Master.

In some ways, it still was.

"No, we'll be fine," Steve said slowly, and Natasha turned to look at him, surprised. "We can defend ourselves." He nudged Natasha's shoulder half-heartedly, "We don't call ourselves the _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_ for nothing, Nat."

Natasha rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Well, you should still get that looked at," the nurse said, pointing to Natasha's arm. "Come on, I'll do it really fast."

Natasha glanced at Steve, then at Blue, "Don't _die_ while I'm gone," She muttered in Steve's ear, before letting her arm get checked by the nurse. Steve shook his head, chuckling as the door closed.

Blue stared at Steve, almost feeling nervous with being in the room with Steve alone. Steve caught on and gave a smile, "I'm not going to do anything to you, don't worry." Blue gave a small nod, and Steve moved to sit back down. After a minute, he pulled the chair over like he did last night, and sat down. Blue stared at his close proximity, and he couldn't stop staring at his neck. If he did it now, it would be swift, probably painless.

But, why would Steve move close to him if he knew Blue had to kill him?

Steve turned and smiled at Blue's confusion. "D'you wanna hear another story?" He asked, his Brooklyn accent peeking its head.

Blue frowned, and Steve chuckled. "I have a great one ― one time, Buck and I, we were stationed in. . . where was it? West Europe? We invaded a german party nearby a small town, so. . ." He smiled, chuckling a little. "The other guys helped us so we could dress up as ladies and infiltrate the guards at the door. We got them drunk, danced with them, and then took them out. After that, we did the same thing for the rest of the soldiers until we got inside. They didn't even see us coming."

Blue watched Steve, still a little wary. "Want to hear another one?" Steve asked and Blue gave a small nod. "Okay, this was in the summer. It was really hot out, but my group was being moved to the front, so we were on the road, but our truck broke down and we didn't have any more extra gas. The front was still about a hundred miles south, and it was all hills and mountains, so we couldn't walk there. We waited on the road for hours, just doing nothing. Buck and I were bored and we were running low on food. We went into the woods to find something to eat, and we found a small stream. Of course, Buck being, well, Buck, said he'd catch some fish for the other guys. I remembered reading somewhere that wading in a river to catch a fish was a lot harder than it looked. It's a lot slippier and the scales are tough ― they'll cut you if you're not careful."

"What ― do?" Blue asked.

"Bucky took his pants off and jumped around in the river for an hour trying to catch a fish." Blue chuckled, and Steve beamed happily, proud to make the boy smile, and laugh at that!

"Buck ― catch?"

"Oh, he caught one," Steve said. ". . . After a rescue truck came for us three hours later." Blue burst out in laughter, and Steve stared at him for a moment, stunned.

Blue stopped, and looked down. "Oh, no wait," Steve said, catching himself. "I'm not mad, I just. . . your laugh it sounds exactly like wind chimes." Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, and Blue blinked, surprised.

" _Ma_?" He asked, and Steve rose an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"Ma ― laugh. Chimes," Blue replied, rubbing his head.

"Your. . . mother's laugh sounded like wind chimes?" Steve asked, and Blue nodded, smiling to himself. He didn't remember much about his mother, but he could remember the wind chimes, he heard it between his ears and behind his back. He could imagine it, when he closed his eyes. It was one of the few things that made him happy.

The door opened again, and Natasha walked back into the room, with Doctor Amari walking behind her. "Hello, Blue," She said, smiling at Blue. He didn't think he liked all these smiles, he never got smiles when he was with his Master. It was a bit weird to see everyone so happy. It made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want them to be upset either.

Blue looked at Natasha, who had her forearm bandaged. He felt his stomach twist and had the sudden urge to say something. He hadn't meant to hurt her ― he meant to kill Steve, she got in the way. "Sorry," He said, and she gave him a half-smile.

"Don't mention it," She said. "I'm not going to sue you because of it." Blue scrunched his eyebrows together ― like he saw Clint do sometimes ― and she smirked, amused.

"We don't know what that nurse injected you with," Doctor Amari said seriously, coming to Blue's side. "We don't know the effects of what was in it. The nurse that attacked you is being detained and is currently being questioned by the police. It would help us with your case if you knew what was in it." Blue shook his head, he didn't have a clue what was in those liquids. "Can you describe what was in it and how you felt after it?"

"Black ― thick. Burn ― body," Blue motioned to his entire person with his good arm. "Check."

"' _Check_ '?" Doctor Amari asked and Blue nodded.

"Six month ― check," Blue said.

"What does that mean, Blue?" Doctor Amari asked.

"Check," Blue replied, not quite knowing how to describe it.

The Doctor nodded, but didn't look mollified, "I advise being under strict supervision of Doctor Banner. If there are any complications, tell Mr. Rogers or Dr. Banner himself, and they'll bring you back here to make sure you're okay, alright?" Blue nodded, and the he pointed to his leg. It was bandaged tight, but didn't hurt anymore, and he could move it.

"Your leg?" Blue nodded, "Does it hurt?" He shook his head. "May I?" He gave a slight nod again, and she moved down.

Dr. Amari put a pair of gloves on and Blue shivered as he touched his calf, moving peeling the bandage back. She stared at where the gunshot wound was, surprised. "Can you move your leg for me, Blue?" She asked and Blue lifted his leg easily, and turned it this way and that. " _Fascinating_. . ." She murmured, pulling the bandage back.

The skin was dark and smooth but for a small white scar of where the wound used to be. He had stitches in, but Dr. Amari told him that it was healing so quickly that she had to take them out. Now, the wound was completely closed, and it didn't hurt at all.

"Well, if you're all healed up, except for the incident this morning, you are clear to go," the doctor said proudly. "Mr. Rogers and Ms. Romanoff can escort you out. If you feel anymore pain, I suggest some tylenol and rest."

Dr. Amari moved to his arm, taking the sticky patches off his chest and gently taking the IV from his arm. She put a blue band-aid on over top, chuckling to herself as she did so. "Mr. Rogers, if you could sign a few things, that would be great."

Steve nodded, and turned to Blue, "I'll be right back, alright?" Blue gave a slight nod, and Steve followed Dr. Amari out of the room.

Blue sat on the bed, quietly, and Natasha came to his side slowly. "Hey," She said, and his head shot up. She stared at him for a few seconds, considering her words. "Don't kill Steve," She said and Blue's eyes went wide.

" _Or_ ―"

"Yeah, I know," She said, cutting him off. "I also know that you're just a kid. You don't want to kill Steve." Blue looked down, pursuing his lips.

"No choice," He murmured, and she hit the side of the bed. He jumped, startled by the sudden move.

"That's an excuse," She scoffed. "If you don't want to kill Steve, then _don't_." She crossed her arms. "You just sat in here for a half an hour and talk to him without trying to kill him again. You don't want to kill Steve ― you're your own person."

" _Orders_!" Blue insisted, but Natasha's eyes narrowed.

"Who's your Master now, Blue?" She demanded. "McAllister is _dead_ , the old one you keep talking about is _far_ from here ― or else he would've come for you _himself_. He sends people to kill anyone who might be a liability to him, and had someone come in here and intimidate you. If your Master wanted you, he would've had you killed, or had you brought back to him."

Blue opened his mouth to find a fault in that, but she was right. His old Master would have came for Blue if he really wanted him. His mission was to infiltrate the Avengers, but. . . surely his old Master knew that he was emotionally compromised? Or, he at least would have brought him back after his Master died?

Natasha noticed his confusion and advanced, "And, if you _do_ kill Steve, what are you going to do? Where are you going to _go_ , B?"

"Base," He replied, that was apart of his instructions.

"Which is _where_?" Blue tried to answer, but he hesitated. "You don't know where your Master is, how are you going to follow his orders?"

Blue didn't know what to say, she was right! What was he supposed to do? Hide for the rest of his life? Kill himself? He would have to, if his Master ordered it, but he didn't want to!

"Steve is _here_ , and Steve wants to _help_ you," Natasha continued. "You follow _his_ instructions and you protect _him_. That, to _me_ , sounds like _Steve_ is your Master."

Blue's heart dropped and he rapidly shook his head. "No! Me ― _kill_! Steve _no_ Master! Master ― hurt! _No_!" He snapped, bewildered.

"Then, who _is_ your Master, Blue?" Natasha asked, "Where is he?"

" _Base_ ," Blue tried again, and Natasha scoffed.

"You don't _know_ where that is, B," She said. "You don't know where your Master is. You, do, know where Steve is ― he's right outside those doors," She pointed to the closed wooden door. Blue could see a bit of the back of Steve's head from the window. "You protect Steve, you _help_ Steve, B. You might want to update your morals before you decide to kill him."

Blue looked at the bed, shocked and scared. "What ― do?" He asked, and she smiled.

"Keep Steve safe," Natasha explained.

" _Kill ― Steve_ ," Blue tried to substitute.

"Not anymore, B," Natasha said, "Steve's your Master, now."


	18. 18 | Blue Fires

**Chapter Seventeen:**

Blue was quiet the whole way back to the Tower. He sat in the car nervously, scratching the edge of the seat. He thought about what Natasha said, about Steve being his Master now. He didn't want it to be true, but. . . Blue acted like Steve was his Master. Blue protected him, Blue obeyed him, and in return, Steve fed him and helped him.

How was Blue supposed to know who was his Master and who wasn't without his old Master, the doctor, telling him who was which. The nurse told him to kill Steve, but if Steve was Blue’s Master, he had to protect him at all costs.

Blue sighed, this was _confusing_! He wanted _orders_! He wanted someone to tell him what to do! Blue closed eyes, focusing. He needed to make a decision. Нe should ask Steve, would he tell Blue what to do?

Blue frowned, _no_. Steve might lie to him, or tell him what he wants to hear. He couldn't ask Natasha, she'd make him even more confused. Clint could help. He would tell him the truth.

Blue nodded to himself firmly, that's what he would do! He'd ask Clint for help, and Clint would help him decide how to make all this mess right!

**b•l•a•u•w**

  
Blue waited a while to ask Clint. They never seemed go be able to talk alone. Bruce and Tony asked for answers for what happened at the hospital. They wanted to know who the woman the police had detained was ― despite the fact that she hadn't spoken a word since her arrest. They wanted to see the syringe she used and feel where she injected him.

Blue didn't know the answers to half of these questions, and he surely didn't feel comfortable with anyone touching the underside of his chin. There was so much scarring from several years of abuse that the skin was sensitive and hurt when he touched it.

Bruce had tried to be kind about it at first. Blue was curled up on the medical bed, hissing and growling at Bruce angrily. “ _Please_ , Blue, let me―”

Blue bared his fangs, his teeth clenched and his hands gripping the covers of the bed. His claws cut into his palm, probably drawing blood, but Blue didn't care. He already had one check-up today, he wasn't keen on another!

“Blue―” Tony tried to reason, but Blue turned on him too. Tony took a step back, holding his hands up. Blue's body was shaking and his shoulder throbbing at this point. He wanted to go to his cage and lie down.

“ _Blue_ ,” Steve said gently from behind him. Blue jumped, his body trembling from the tension built up in him. “It's okay,” Steve held out an innocent palm. Blue relaxed. “Bruce is trying to help you, remember?” Blue gave a shaky nod. “Well, he can't help you completely unless he sees the damage that woman caused. It'll only be a second.”

Blue whined, shaking his head. He didn't want anyone else to touch it. “He's not going to hurt you,” Steve assured. “He wants to help you. He's trying to help you. You have to let him see it.” Blue breathed, in and out, for a minute. This was an order? It didn't sound like how his usual orders did, demanding and firm, but it wasn't a suggestion either.

Blue bowed his head in submission, and turned back to Dr. Banner. He tried desperately not to cry, his old Master would discipline him if he cried. His lip was trembling and Blue bit into it. His fangs sank into the flesh causing blood to well in his mouth. It hurt, bady, but Blue didn't spit it out.

“Okay, uh, tilt your head up for me, B,” Bruce said, and Blue slowly did as he was told. He clutched the blankets as he exposed his chin and neck. Needle piercing and scratch marks were displayed clearly. Bruce gasped, shocked and even Tony shuffled forward to see the full extent of the medical abuse and the self-inflicted injuries.

Sometimes, Blue would have memories while in his cage, feeling them touching his skin and his neck, so he would claw desperately at it. It began to bleed, of course, and eventually would scar like it did. His Master decided to cuff him to the side of the cage in case he tried again. This didn't stop him from squirming and calling out at night, terror gripping him tight in his clutches.

“These are self-inflicted,” Bruce muttered, bringing Blue back to reality. He reached over, his gloves fingers tracing where he had cut himself deepest. Blue bit his lips, breathing hard his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Bruce moved his hand to Blue’s tender chin.

He touched it and Blue flinched, tears escaping him. He tried to look at Steve, but he couldn't see him. He could feel his Master's cold, blue hands pressing into his skin, wiping the flesh with a wipe, sticking the syringe in.

Bruce applied a small bit of pressure and Blue snapped. He jumped away, tears falling down the side of his face, and he held his chin and neck away protectively. He tried to breathe, _in ― in ― out ― in ― in ― in_

“I'm sorry,” Bruce apologized, but Blue couldn't stop his sobbing now. He could feel them again, on his skin. He clawed at his neck, immediately drawing blood.

“No! _Stop_!” Steve ordered, pulling his hands away. Blue thrashed he had to get them off! He _had_ to get them off!!

Blue screamed, twisting his arms away and yanking them from Steve's grip. He began tearing at his skin again, blood trickling down from it. Steve moved behind him, pulling Blue in a headlock, but not incapacitating him. Blue whined and moved, clawing at Steve's arms, but Steve didn't budge.

His body shook with sobs, and Steve began to gently press his hand against Blue's hair, bringing it down softly. He shushed him slowly, as he continued the motion, stroking his hair and calming him down.

Blue sat in Steve's arms for several long minutes. His breathing finally going in and out. Steady and consistent. “You alright now, B?” Steve asked and Blue shakily nodded. “I'm going to let you go, I don't want you to scratch yourself, alright?”

Blue nodded again. Steve let go and Blue moved away, but he kept his bloody hands at his side. His neck wounds and quickly closed themselves up, his healing rate nothing short of efficient. Bruce approached him with an alcoholic wipe.

Before Blue could panic, Tony yanked it from him and threw it into the garbage can. “No wipes,” Tony said, both to the startled Bruce and Blue. “We learned that lesson last time.” Tony turned around, getting a handful of paper towels and wetting them in the sink. He handed it to Blue who tentatively took it.

Blue began to dab at his neck, flinching slightly when he touched the exposed skin, or the sensitive parts. Blue was tired and his shoulder was hurting again. He cleaned up the blood and Steve had gingerly bandaged it, exceedingly careful not to actually touch the skin.

Blue sat quietly on the bed, and Steve looked at Tony and Bruce for a few minutes, exchanging glances. Finally, Tony spoke up. “Okay, B!” He said in a false cheery voice. “You're all done for today ― despite the fact that we _hardly_ got―” Bruce elbowed him in the ribs, cutting his sarcastic commentary short.

“Go lie down, Blue,” Bruce suggested. “We're done for now.”

Blue looked at Steve for confirmation, and Steve smiled, “You heard the man. C'mon, I think we both need a nap.” Steve ushered him from the medical room. They passed the sitting open sitting room/kitchen where Clint sat staring on the couch, his phone in his hands and the television on.

Blue looked down immediately. Television was a people thing. Steve stopped to greet the man, who waved back, and remembered that he wanted to talk to him.

Blue made a noise to get Steve's attention. “Clint ― me?” He asked, and Steve rose an eyebrow. “Clint ― talk. Me?”

“You wanna talk to Clint?” Blue nodded, “Sure, go ahead, B. I'll be in my room.” Steve left Blue and disappeared down the hall.

Blue looked shyly at Clint, who was watching him. He stepped down the few stairs and sat on the floor beside the couch.

Clint made a face, “You don't have to sit there,” he patted the cushion beside him and Blue hesitated. He got up slowly and moved to sit. Clint was staring at him, “What happened here?” He asked, motioning to his own neck.

Blue frowned, “Claws ― scratch ― hurt ― check-up,” he explained. Clint nodded, but he didn't look altogether certain.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He asked, “Did you want to learn some new words?” Although the suggestion was tempting, Blue shook his head.

He took a deep breath and began to awkwardly explain. “Natasha ― talk me ― no Master ― Steve Master,” he began. “Me--Me kill Steve ― _orders_. Steve Master ― me no kill Steve.” Blue held his head, shaking it, “Hurts. C. . .” he frowned, looking for the word. “Con–Confused.”

Clint frowned, moving to grab the remote and muting the television. Then, he folded his hands together, digesting his words. “Natasha told you that. . . you didn't have a Master?” Blue nodded. “‘ _Steve Master_ ’? Does that mean that _Steve's_ your Master?” Blue nodded again.

“Natasha,” he said, and Clint nodded.

“Natasha told you that.” Blue confirmed. “What else did you say? You kill Steve? Orders?”

“Master ― orders,” Blue elaborated.

“Your Master ordered you to kill Steve,” it seemed to click with Clint. “If Steve's your Master, you can't hurt him, but your other Master told you to kill him?”

Blue nodded, “Old Master ― doctor.”

Clint rose an eyebrow. “McAllister wasn't a. . . are you talking about the other one?” Blue nodded again. “Oh, okay. Got it.” Clint scratched his sideburns, nodding. “So, you're confused. I understand.”

“What ― do?”

Clint hummed, thinking for a while. Blue squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. He looked at his bloody fingers. “Blue?” He looked at the man, expectantly. “I'm going to be Frank with you, okay?” Blue didn't know what that meant, but nodded anyway. “Steve is my friend, and I _like_ Steve. If I were you, I wouldn't kill Steve at all. But, you're saying that your Master ordered you to through the woman to tried to kill you. Blue, when someone is your Master, how so you treat them?” Blue blinked, confused. “What does a Master do?”

“Discipline,” Blue said. “Order ― me. Hurt.”

“Do you _like_ your Masters?”

Blue frowned, “Me protect ― Master.”

“But, do you _like_ them? Have they been nice to you? So they treat you good? Do they help you?” Blue slowly shook his head. “Exactly. But, Steve has done this. Steve helps you, he feeds you, and he treated you well.”

“Steve no Master,” Blue frowned and Clint nodded.

“True, Steve _isn't_ your Master. You can ask him if he wants to be, but he might say no. I think that Steve is your friend. That's why you help him.”

“ _Friend_?” Blue repeated, “Buck?”

Clint frowned, “You mean. . . Bucky Barnes?” Blue nodded. “He was friends with Steve. And, friends don't kill each other.”

Blue thought about this for a while. “Steve ― me friend?” Blue finally said and Clint nodded, gently patting his shoulder.

“Yep. You can ask him if he'll be friends with you ― or if he'll be your Master. I think he’d like being friends better, though.”

Blue nodded and then stood, satisfied with the advice, “Thank you,” he said and Clint grinned.

“Anytime, kiddo,” he said with a slight nod and Blue left.

He went to Steve's room ― the door was opened and Steve was on his bed, reading a book. He looked up when Blue entered. “Hey,” he greeted, setting the book down. “What’d you talk about with Clint?”

Blue came over to the side of the bed so they could see eye-to-eye. “Steve,” he didn't know how to ask this. Maybe just come right out and say it? “Steve be ― Master me?” Steve frowned for a second, watching him. Then, he frowned even more, realizing what he was asking.

“I. . . I don't _want_ to be your Master, B,” Steve said. “I don't think you need one. I'll watch over you, if that's what you want? I'll help you.”

Blue frowned, trying Clint's other suggestion. “Steve ― _friend_ me?” Blue asked and then added, “Like Buck?” Steve smiled, glad of the change. He raised a hand and rubbed Blue's curls.

“Yeah, B. Let's do that instead.” Blue was satisfied, he had no other questions. He moved and went to the blanket laid out for him on the ground. He delicately curled up and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly. 


	19. 19 - Blue Mothers

**Chapter Eighteen:**

Blue stayed by Steve’s side for the rest of the day. After resting for an hour or so, they hung out with the other Avengers. Tony ordered pizza, which tasted gooey on Blue’s tongue. Still, the different flavours of the combined ingredients ― that Clint described as cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperonis ― were delicious. Blue sighed in content when he tasted it, his fangs popping out.

The others laughed to themselves at Blue’s expressive reactions. Blue was nearly quiet, despite the savage way he ate with his hands. He usually sank into the background of conversations, the training of being seen and not heard drilled into him. Blue wasn’t quite used to being asked questions, being involved. These were all people things, things that Blue knew wasn’t something he was supposed to do.

He looked at Steve who had been laughing at something Bruce said. Their mannerisms were so much different than his Master’s had been. His Master had laughed, yes, but he didn’t laugh like _this_ ― he didn’t laugh with _friends_. He laughed at _Blue_ , he laughed at his _men_. His laughter was cruel and usually at the expense of others. His laughter was cold and exclusive, theirs was warm and inviting.

Blue didn’t know how they did it, but he didn’t complain. A part of him liked being in this group, pretending to be a person. It was like a game, almost. Like when he would play pretend with his Ma.

Blue blinked, looking down, his eyebrow ruffling. His Ma. There she was again, in his thoughts. Blue had so rarely thought of her. She was just a memory, nothing important to him. He didn’t even know what this woman he called ‘ _Ma_ ’ looked like! He bit his lip, frowning a bit. He remembered playing pretend, eating brownies, and windchimes ― what _were_ windchimes, anyway?

Blue let out a small growl in frustration. Half of the things he remembered about her, he didn’t even know what it was himself! “ _B_?” He looked up, Natasha was watching him, curiously. “Everything okay?”

Blue nodded, and suddenly the eyes were on him. He flinched instinctively, usually when everyone watched him, he was fighting a dog or being disciplined. He reminded himself that he wasn’t in the ring anymore ― he wasn’t with his Master anymore.

This was a lot to take in, he realized. Everything was happening so _fast_. One second, he was with his Master and now he was with Steve and the others ― and he trusted them! “Blue?” He looked up again ― Natasha asked him question.

“Fine,” Blue replied shortly. But then he frowned, remembering his inquiries from a few minutes ago. “What. . . what chimes?” He asked the room at large. They exchanged looks with one another at the sudden question.

“You mean windchimes?” Tony clarified and Blue nodded a bit. “Well. . . they’re. . .” He made a hand gesture, but it didn’t exactly answer Blue’s question at all. “Anyone wanna help?”

“It’s an instrument,” Clint replied. “They jingle when a breeze pass through.” Then, he shrugged, “I dunno what else to say ― I’m deaf.” This made a chuckle spread through the room, the others amused by his words ― Blue didn’t know why.

“They sound like bells,” Bruce said. “JARVIS, can you play some windchimes?”

“ _Right away_ ,” a voice answered, and Blue jumped. He knew that there was an invisible man they all spoke to called JARVIS. Blue could never hear him or smell him, but he was always seemed to be following them ― he wondered if he could meet him.

Suddenly the laughter of his Ma rang through the room. Blue looked around, something twisting his chest, but he hadn’t been injured. He felt his arms shake a little, he felt his eyes water. He whined, his lip trembling. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t in trouble, but. . . his _Ma_. He could hear her in his head, he could feel her in his bones. He could feel the gentle touch of her fingers on his head, brushing the hair out of the face. She always did that ― she always moved the hair out of his face.

_“Move those hairs so I can see those beautiful eyes, baby.”_

  
“ _Blue_?” This was Steve. Blue blinked, rubbing at his face, the tears absorbing in the sleeve of his shirt. The windchimes had faded away, leaving the room silent and empty. Leaving the room vacant of his Ma. Steve smiled gently, “Hey. You alright?”

“ _Ma_ ,” He whined. He wanted her here. He wanted to see her again ― he wanted to see her again. “Where ― Ma?” This caused an uncomfortable shift in the room. He frowned, sensing their discomfort.

“She’s alive,” Steve began slowly, and Blue’s eyes widened. His Ma was _alive_!? Did she remember him? Or, was he reduced to merely playing pretend and brownies and windchimes in her head too?

“See ― Ma?” Blue asked, and Steve exchanged glances with Tony, who had a raised eyebrow. He took a sip of his alcohol, slowly, deliberately.

Steve frowned, and Tony chuckled. “If you want, Blue,” Tony began, setting the glass back down. “You can go see your mother tomorrow morning.”

Blue stared at Tony, his mouth falling open. “ _Tony_ ―”

“ _What_?” Tony looked at the man, and they began to argue with their eyes and eyebrows again. “If you want to see your mother, we’ll take you,” Tony said and Steve cleared his throat. “We’ll go with you,” Tony amended, waving his hand at Steve, as if to say, ‘ _are you happy_ ’?

“Your mother is sick,” Steve said gently, and Blue turned to look at him, frowning. “She wants to see you too, but it’ll be best if one of us,” he waved to the himself and the others. “Were there with you. Just so that you are safe.”

“And that _she_ is,” Tony muttered, and Steve sent another glare his way.

“Do you want to go?” Blue nodded eagerly. His Ma ― he was going to see his Ma. “We’ll head out tomorrow morning, then. We should go to bed early tonight then, huh?” Blue didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled off the couch, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Steve got up too, and they said goodbye and goodnight to the others before going to their room.

Blue hardly slept at all that night. He was so excited, he was so happy. He couldn’t stop thinking about his Ma ― what she had been like, if she knew if, if she loved him. It wasn’t until late into the night that Blue finally rested. But, even then, his mind was full of playing pretend, the sound of windchimes, and the taste of brownies.

**p•o•l•ū**

  
Blue was excited to get to his Ma. He was excited to see her and hug her again ― after all this time.

He _wasn’t_ excited for their mode of transportation. It was a the size of a big car. Steve and Blue drove twenty minutes to get there. They stood outside, and Blue was a bit worried. The big car had strange adjustments poking out of the sides, and blades standing still. Steve led Blue up the stairs, and Blue followed tentatively.

The inside of the big car was shiny with nearly a dozen chairs. In the front, was a man who turned around and smiled at him. Steve spoke a few words to him before waving to Blue. He sat Blue down on one of the seats, strapping a seatbelt over him.

Steve sat beside him, smiling gently. “The jet will be taking off soon, I’m going to sit right here, okay. If you get scared, you can hold onto my arm, alright?” Blue frowned, confused, before he could ask, the door they came through opened again revealing an out of breath, Tony.

“Just finished the transfer!” He announced, and pulled something out of his pocket, pointing it at Steve and Blue. “I wouldn’t miss his first plane ride for the world.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve warned, but Tony was too busy laughing to himself.

“You can go, Austin!” Tony announced. The man in the front took this as a go ahead.

Blue felt his surroundings rumble a little. Then, he was lurched forward, before being tilted back. Blue’s eyes were wide in confusion and terror. He clutched the arm rests and gritted his teeth. Then, he made the mistake of looking out the window.

Blue’s stomach rolled, he felt like he was going to be sick. “Steve!” He breathed, staring at the ground as it began to get smaller and smaller in the distance. What was going on!? “ _Steve_!!” He cried again, he was terrified.

“Hey, I'm right here,” Steve eased him, placing a hand over his own. “It's okay―” As soon as the words left his mouth, Blue felt a sharp stabbing in his ears. He groaned, holding his head, his arms shaking.

“You should've gave him some sleeping pills,” Tony commented, but made no attempt to help.

“Too risky.” Steve said, still helping Blue. He drew his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe, in and out. In and out.

Steve smiled, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “Sorry, B. How are you feeling?”

“Air ― flying,” he said, still shocked. “ _How_ ― flying?”

“ _Well_ ,” Tony said with a mischief grin, but Steve stopped him.

“It's hard to explain,” Steve said. “But don't worry, we'll land in a few hours.” Blue nodded, assuming he meant that they would be back on the ground. Would they be at home? Would they be with his Ma?

Now that Blue wasn't quite scared anymore, he looked out the window. He could see the tops of the clouds and opened his mouth in wonder. The sun was bright and made the fluffy looking masses glow. It was _beautiful_!

**x•i•a•v**

  
For the next few hours, Blue took his time sleeping or looking out the window. Tony showed him the video he took of himself freaking out ― Blue didn't appreciate it very much.

When they were finally beginning to land, Blue got scared again, but it was fast, and Steve assured him that they were fine.

They got out of the big car, and Blue frowned. They were in a new place now. He couldn't smell the sharp smoke the cars let out like he did in New York. Now it was different, it was weird.

Blue sat near the window, Steve let him put it down as they drove. He was a little scared at first ― the wind pressed into his face and messed up his hair ― but then he grew to enjoy it. It was refreshing and warm. He liked how it felt, the dry taste in the air. He smelt. . . _Salt_. _Watery-salt_. It was familiar ― why was it familiar. He didn't understand.

Confusion littered his face as they continued to drive for a couple more hours. He watched as they pulled into a block of small houses. Blue has never seen houses like this before. They were all the same with metal gates in their yard ― like the ring in his Master’s basement.

The car stopped in front of a house. The grass inside the yard was high, and the house itself was a very pale shade of blue. The sun had stolen the colours over the years. Blue stared at the house, confused ― shocked.

Steve got out and opened his door. Blue followed him, “Steve ― where?” Blue asked, as Steve walked up the plant-ridden path, and knocked lightly on the door.

“You're about to see,” he replied. Then, the door opened and a woman stood there.

Blue stared at the curly mane and the dark eyes. He stared at her thin frame and feeble hands. Blue stared and stared and stared. The woman stared back, but she was getting tears in her eyes. She smelled familiar, but Blue couldn't quite place it. She was sobbing and holding out her hands.

She stepped forward towards Blue and Blue jumped back hissing. His fangs slid over his teeth threateningly, he didn't know this woman. Why was she crying? What did she want?

The woman was stunned, but Tony and Steve quickly came to the rescue. “It's okay, Blue.” Steve assured to Blue while Tony spoke to the woman.

“Let's go sit down. We need to talk.”

A few minutes later, they were on the couch. It was broken and messy. The house smelt like mould and trash. The woman didn't seem to mind. She bustled around, setting glass drinks down in front of Steve and Tony. They thanked the woman, and glanced at each other.

Finally, Steve spoke. “As. . . I explained, for the past decade, Blue had been in a very bad environment,” he began. “The people who took him. . . changed him. He's not quite the Blue you remember.”

“But he's still my child,” the woman argued.

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “But―”

“I want him _here_ ,” the woman said. “I _never_ lost custody of him! I _never_ gave him up to no one! He belongs _here_ ― with _me_.” Her voice cracked a little, and she continued to stare at Blue. He wanted to hiss at her, but Tony stopped him. 

  
“For your best interests and his, it would be better if you two. . . _eased_ back into your lives,” Tony said. “We're not saying you can't keep him here, it would just be better for both of you if you took it slow.” The woman was shaking her head.

“ _No_. He's been gone for ten years! I want him to stay here.”

“Ma'am, Blue is―”

“My baby can speak for himself!” She snapped and Blue blinked, confused. She looked at him, smiling again. “Go on. Tell them, baby. Tell them you wanna stay with your ma.” Was this an order? He blinked, he didn't have a Master ― was she his Master? Was that why they brought him here?

Blue had to follow orders given to him, that was a rule. “Me ― stay?” Blue asked, a bit confused. Did she say she was his Ma?

“You can if you want to, Blue,” Steve said. “These aren't orders. You don't have to stay here―”

“Stop lying to him!” The woman snapped and Blue turned, was she threatening Steve. “He's gonna stay here ― he just said it!”

“Ma'am―”

“ _Get out_!” She jumped from her seat, about to grab Steve hand. Blue narrowed his eyes and hissed, ready to jump on her.

Tony, however, held him back. “No, no, Bad B. You can't jump on her. Don't do that,” he scolded.

“Ma'am, I am sure we can arrange something,” Steve tried to say. She stopped trying to get them to leave ― Steve was too heavy anyway. She pressed her palms to her hands and began to sob. Blue blinked and Steve rose to his feet, rubbing her back. She kept saying, _my baby, my baby_.

Blue squirmed, rubbing his lip, his fangs sinking back into his gums. Both he and Tony looked out of place, unsure what to do or where to go.

“Can I. . .” the woman sniffed looking at Blue. He looked away, “Can I see him? _Please_?”

Tony patted his arm, “Can she come closer, B?” He asked and Blue felt a bit uncomfortable. The woman was still crying and he felt something twist in his stomach.

He nodded and the woman stepped forward, kneeling in front of him. She put out a hand and touched his face. Blue tensed his eyes darting towards Steve in a blind panic. “My baby Blue,” she whispered, and Blue looked at her. “You're still beautiful,” she murmured, rubbing his cheek with her thumb.

Blue did _not_ like this. She was too _close_. She could kill him too easily ― _would_ she kill him? Blue swallowed, trying to lean away ― he didn't want to he this close. Nobody was helping him. Nobody was stopping her.

“Do you remember me?” She laughed tearily. “I'm your mother, remember?” Her hands pressed harder. Was she going to discipline him?

Blue nodded and the woman let out an airy laugh. She suddenly grabbed his shoulders. Blue tried to move, but she pulled him close to her chest. Blue let out a cry of alarm, his eyes wide and darting around. She rubbed the back of his head, whispering softly in his ear.

“I am your Master now. Tell these men to leave us alone.” Blue stiffened, but did as he was told.

“Alone?” He asked Steve. Steve rose an eyebrow, but nodded.

“Or course, B.” He and Tony watched them for a minute, “We'll be right outside, okay?” Blue nodded his eyes darting to his Master for orders.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly as the door opened and then closed again. His Master looked at Blue and smiled. “You had orders,” she said slowly. “Kill Steve Rogers at the first chance you get.”

“Hard,” Blue said. “Steve. . . friend?”

The woman let out a scoff, sneering. “‘ _Friend_ ’?” She repeated, disgusted. “ _Pets_ don't have friends. _Friends_ are for _people_.” She advanced on him, and Blue moved back. “Doesn't matter now. You failed your mission. I'm taking you back to base for dissection.”

Blue’s entire world froze. He stared at the woman, then turned to run. She grabbed him by his hair, yanking him back. Blue slashed his claws at her, cutting her arm and making her let go.

He ran again, sprinting into another room, closing the door and pressing his back against it.

Blue breathed, tears coming to his eyes. Then, he stopped, smelling something metallic and strong. He heard the buzzing of flies and looked over.

He saw a woman on the ground, her throat was cut open, attracting the attention of flies and other bugs. Her eyes were wide in betrayal and shock. She was wearing fine, blue clothes stained with red down her chest. She was dressed up for an occasion. She had curly dark hair that was dripping, soaked from her own blood.

He stared and stared and stared. Then, tears began to roll out of his eyes. He stared at her eyes. Her dark eyes, so dark they looked blue.

Blue let out a sob. This was his _Ma_. His Ma, with brownies and playing pretend and wind chimes. He wanted to hear her wind chimes.

He stumbled over to the corpse and sobbed, arms trembling. He lightly touched her face. It was as cold as ice. The door opened and the woman appeared, “Get up,” she ordered and Blue shook his head. His Ma. . . his Ma was _dead_.

He heard a gun click and turned around. His entire front was covered in her blood. He stared dully at the woman who was pointing a gun at him. “Unfortunately, they decided that you will not be dissected in the traditional sense ― _pity_. You will be decommissioned.”

Blue snarled and pounced at the woman. Her gun went off and he felt it soar through his collarbone. He didn't care. It went off again, and it missed. Blue jumped on her, his teeth bared and claws sharp. She stared up at him, terrified as he sank his teeth into her neck, tearing out her throat, ripping up her face. She _killed_ his Ma. That's why she smelled familiar. She murdered her wind chimes.

He was going to make sure they didn't even _recognize_ her body.

He mauled her squirming, gurgling body, he heard shouting and someone yanking him up, but he growled at them, wanting her to be reduced to nothing more than mass and blood. “ _Blue_! Get off of her!!” Steve screamed and Blue hissed, his eyes blown and dangerous. Steve stopped, staring at his eyes, his face going blank.

“Oh, no Rogers, don't you dare!” Tony snapped, and slapped Steve. He shook his head and realized what was still going on.

He felt something wrap around his face and he was pulled back. Blue let out a cry, falling on his back as Steve and Tony examined the body.

“ _Shit_ ,” Tony breathed as Blue clawed at his face, ripping through the jacket, getting it off. He wasn't finished.

He jumped back on her, but Steve intercepted him, wrapping his arms around his waist, yanking him back. Blue howled and moaned, trying to do even more damage to the quite unrecognizable body.

“ _Blue_! What the _hell_!?” Steve hissed, holding him tight.

Blue breathed heavily, his words slurred from anger and grief. “Ma!” He growled.

“Yeah, you _killed_ her, smartass,” Tony fired back. Blue shook his head, pointing to the room behind Tony.

“ _Ma_!” He said and the tears were coming back now. Tony turned and his eyebrows went high.

“Oh.” He said, realizing what he meant. Then, he looked at the fake-Ma. “ _Oh_. . .”

“ _What_?” Steve loosened his hold on Blue and stood. Blue came behind him, and squirmed into the room. “Oh. . . Oh, _no_. . .” he said and Blue ran to his Ma’s body. He whined, holding her head to his chest, his tears mixing with blood.

“Ma!” Blue sobbed, anguish clenching his heart. “ _Ma_!”


	20. 19 - Blue Chases

**Chapter Nineteen:**

Blue trembled over his mother’s body, his hands gripping her head close to his chest. “Ma,” Blue whined over and over again. His hands were shaking, his breath was coming fast, in in in inininin

“Blue,” Steve said, coming close to him.

Blue turned and bared his fangs. “ _No_!” He screamed, “ _No! No! No!!_ ”

Steve raised his hands, showing Blue his palms. “I know you’re upset,” He began and Blue shook his head again, looking back down at his ma, his ma, his ma. . . “I need to know, did that woman hurt you?”

“Ma,” He whined, his lip trembling. “ _Ma_. . .”

“I know, B,” Steve whispered, “I know. Work with me here. Did she shoot you?” Blue gave a shaky nod. “Can I see it?” He inched forward and Blue hissed, holding his mother closer to his chest. “Sorry. _Sorry_ ,” his moved back. Blue relaxed a little, still hiccupping sobs out. “Can you point to where she shot you?” Blue raised a hand slowly, pointing to his collarbone, which was still bleeding profusely. Blue ignored it, and the dizziness he felt from it.

“Okay,” Steve breathed, looking from Blue to his dead Ma. “I. . . I need you to let her go, alright?” Blue shook his head, frantically. “We need to treat your shoulder ― you’re losing a lot of blood.”

Blue shook his head again, “No! _Ma_! No! _No_! _Ma_!” He said through sharp breaths. He heard loud sirens outside and his head turned sharply, his eyes darting at the wall he was staring at. He could see red-and-blue strobe lights flashing through the window curtains. He clutched his mother tighter, and growled agitated.

Tony, who had left several minutes ago, returned a few minutes after the red-and-blue lights did. Behind him, was a taller man with a receding blonde hairline and dark eyes. He wore a dark blue outfit, and strapped on his waist was a belt of several items ― one of them being a gun holster.

Blue tensed, growled at the man, his fangs bared and eyes narrowed. “Hello son,” the man spoke evenly, but Blue could sense the wisps of fear from him. “We’re here to help. I need you to let that woman go, alright?” Blue shook his head, moving back, dragging the body with him.

“Blue, _please_ ,” Tony spoke. “They’re going to help your mother. But, they can’t do that if you’re holding her like this.” Blue shook his head again, his eyes going from Tony to the man to Steve, waiting, anticipating a fight.

What he didn’t expect, was an order. “Blue, let her go,” Steve said sternly, and Blue turned, going rigid. “That’s an _order_ , Blue. Drop her and move away.” Blue whined, looking back down at his mother. He slowly released her head and scooted away from the body. The man advanced, moving to a rectangular black box on his shoulder, speaking sharply to it.

Blue didn’t listen, he was covering his ears, sobbing into his knees. His ma was gone, she was gone. He didn’t get to meet her ― he didn’t even get to hear her laugh.

Blue let out a howl of pain, of remorse. Steve moved closer, but Blue wasn’t having it.

He screeched at Steve, his mouth, reddened from blood stretched wide. His throat was coarse, but that didn’t stop his screaming. His fangs were out and exposed at their full length, dripping with the blood of the fake-Ma, whose body was still desecrated in the hallway. His claws were scratched deep in the wood of the floorboards. He screamed loud and long, making Tony and the man stop to stare, either in shock or horror.

Steve moved forward and wrapped his arms around Blue, rubbing the back of his head. Blue inhaled for a moment before screaming again. This time, it was cracked, like a shattered mirror. It sounded like he was gurgling rocks, like he was drowning alone. The screaming finally gave way to loud, open sobs. Steve held him tighter, not saying a word.

After a while, Steve rose to his feet, still holding tight to Blue. He led him out of the room ― the Fake-Ma was moved, but the stains of blood were still on the floor. In the hall, were a couple men and women. One of them, was carrying a large black bag. “C’mon,” Steve said gently, tugging Blue out of the hall ― out of the door ― out of the house.

Steve moved Blue into a car, opening the door, he watched as the people who brought the black bag moved out of the room, carrying the body between them on a yellow stroller. Blue began to cry again, fat tears making its way down his cheeks.

Tony approached them, glancing for a moment at Blue before turning sharply to look at Steve. “They want to ask a few questions,” he said to Steve.

“He can’t,” Steve said. “He’s not―”

“I’m sorry,” the man with the rapidly retreating blonde hair approached them. “But, seeing as Blue Williams is now an orphan, he is the property of the _state_. With all due respect, you _aren’t_ his guardian, and we need to know what happened here.”

“You saw what happened,” Steve frowned. “He was hugging the body of his mother.”

“But the other woman ― the _Jane Doe_ ― we don’t know exactly how that happened. It looks like claw marks on her face, but, we won’t know for sure until autopsy results come back. But,” he glanced at Blue, who was swaying a bit in the seat, his eyes half-lidded. A cold seemed to be creeping up his spine, and his stomach seemed to twist. “He does seem to have unusually. . . _long_ nails.”

“Sir, _with all due respect_ ,” Steve repeated, not sounding respectful at all. “He is most likely going into shock and he has a bullet wound in his collarbone. It would be better for his health if he is taken to the hospital opposed to being taken in for questioning.”

“Mr. Rogers, that is not your decision to make,” the officer said frankly. “Hand him over.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and Blue breathed, in and. . . out. In and. . . out. “ _No_.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, several pairs of guns were pulled and aimed at them. All of the police men swarming the house, hell even the paramedics loading the ambulance had guns and were ready to fire.

Steve and Tony froze, glancing around, carefully. Steve moved back towards Blue, who was still sitting in the car, looking around, confusedly. “That. . . _wasn’t_ a suggestion sir,” the man smiled, but it was a cold smile ― the same one his Master gave before a punishment. The complete opposite of the ones Steve and Tony gave. “Hand him over ― I won’t ask again, Mr. Rogers.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve spoke quietly, looking around.

Tony touched his wrist, “Yeah. . . got it.”

“ _Mr. Rogers_ ,” the man didn’t look so happy.

“Who wants him?” Steve asked, glancing around at the other men on the street. There had to be at least a couple dozen of them.

“Nobody you know, Mr. Rogers.”

“So, nobody important,” Steve supplied, and the man narrowed his eyes. Blue looked around the car, seeing something glinting from underneath the seat. “What do they want Blue for? Don’t they have enough kids to play with?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “But not all of them are as. . . _successful_ as their pet.” Steve flinched, but kept his cool.

“Why him?” He demanded, “What makes him valuable? What makes Blue special? Because he survived being poke and prodded like a _rat_?”

“That,” he agreed, “And, his screams were the most. . . _satisfying_.” Something fell from the sky, locking themselves around Tony’s wrists. Immediately, the man was knocked off his feet, landing face first on the ground. Steve grabbed Tony’s shirt and yanking him over. Blue pulled the shield out from where it was underneath the seat and tossed it to Steve. He caught it and blocked the onslaught of bullets, falling into the car’s backseat and slamming the door closed.

“JARVIS! _Drive_!” Tony shouted, and the car responded.

“ _Right on it, sir_.” The car lurched forward, and Tony climbed up, going to the front seat.

“Manual drive,” he said, and then took hold of the wheel, speeding down the street at alarming ― and probably illegal ― speeds. “What’s the fastest way to the airport?”

“ _Turn right_ ,” Tony did as he was told. Tires squealed against the street. “ _ETA, ten minutes._ ”

Blue looked around, scared and shocked at the cars that chased them down the narrow streets. “Hey, B,” Steve smiled, and Blue looked up at him. “It’s going to be okay. Can you breathe for me?” Blue nodded, he knew how to do that. In and out. In and out.

Steve rummaged around the car, before finally finding what he was looking for in the glove compartment of the car. He pulled out a small bag and came to Blue’s side. He pulled out a white paper towel and a bottled substance. “I know you don’t like wipes,” Steve said, “But I _have_ to clean the wound. Can you stay calm for me?” Blue looked from the bottle to Steve, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiety.

“ _Hold on_!” Tony warned before the car suddenly stopped before turning around, taking a complete U-turn. Blue’s shoulder hit the car door and he cried out in pain, breathing sharply, his eyes closing tight as his shoulder throbbed. He whined through gritted teeth, his eyes closed tight, hand clamped over the wound.

Steve came over, and Blue smelt the sharp scent of alcohol clearly. Blue whined, trying to move away, but Steve wasn’t letting him. He peeled Blue’s bloody hand away, and pressed the towel into his shoulder. Blue hissed in pain, shuddering and trying to get away from it ― from him. It smelt so bad ― it smelt like his _Master_.

He felt sick. He turned and vomited on the ground, it was a bloody, sluggish mess. Steve moved out of the way, but didn’t move his hand. “ _Wha_ ―?!” Tony cried, trying to turn around to see what he knew just happened. “I _know_ you didn’t just _vomit_ in my _car_!”

“Keep your eyes on the road!” Steve snapped and Tony grumbled, racing down the California streets.

After a few minutes, Steve let go. Blue yanked himself away, breathing heavily, trying to get the scent ― get his Old Master ― off of him. Steve grabbed a half-empty roll of bandages and instructed Blue to raise his arm. He did as he was told, and raising his arm and Steve began to expertly wrap him up.

“Shit!” Tony snapped, “JARVIS, deploy the rest of Mach-16. Have them get rid of the bogies following us.

“ _Yes, sir_.”

Blue leaned against the seat when Steve finished, closing his eyes and breathing. “Don’t go to sleep, yet,” Steve warned. “We aren’t done yet. Can you hold off for a bit longer?” Blue nodded, he could handle a bullet wound ― he had far worse injuries in the Ring.

“How are we looking, Tony?” Steve asked, looking around them. Blue did too, and regretted it immediately.

A dozen cars were chasing behind them. A few had men pointing out their windows, shooting bullets that glanced off the window of the bullet-reinforced vehicle. “Tony! Slow down!” Steve shouted, looking ahead of them. Blue turned and frowned. The road was barred off, and there were tracks on the ground with a red, blinking light. He knew that meant nothing good.

Tony didn’t listen. He barrelled straight through the wooden bars, and Blue turned, getting a glimpse of a huge. . . _vehicle_. It was long, and in the second that they saw it, it passed. Blue felt like he was going to be sick again. It looked like a worm-like car that traveled as fast as light itself. It could’ve hit them, he realized. _That’s_ why Steve told him to slow down. Had it been a second later, they would be dead.

Tony grinned back at them in the mirror, “Told you not to worry,” he teased Steve. “I said, I have this _all_ in―” Something heavy rammed them in the side of the car.

Blue felt as if he were flying for a minute, before the car flipped, turning on its side, and crunching on the asphalt. His head snapped to the side, he covered his face as glass showered everywhere.

Blue laid on the ground, his eyes closed. He smelt smoke and. . . was there a _fire_? He felt someone tug on his arm and he groaned in pain. “ _Steve_?” He murmured. Nobody answered.

He was dragged out of the car. He tried to look around, but his neck hurt whenever he moved it. He was so tired ― didn’t Steve say to stay awake? Why was he supposed to stay awake? He was so tired, and they were dragging him in a car, tapping his mouth and hands and feet. His head lolled, why was this familiar? Why did he. . . why did he _remember_ this?

Then, someone put tape over his eyes, blocking any and all light from the room. The room began to move, speeding away. Blue moaned, his eyes only getting glimpses of light ― glimpses of faces. “Hurry up ― we gotta get back to base before they try to follow us.”

Blue moaned, memories flooding his mind causing his splitting headache it feel exponentially worse.

 

_“Quiet! God, they’re all so irritating!”_

  
Blue tried to get away ― tried to run. He couldn’t go back, he was going to be dissected alive! He didn’t want to die! “Shut him up, will you?” He heard someone say as he tried to get the several layers of tape off his hands.

There was a click of a gun, before it was smashed into his skull, and he slumped against the floor, his eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · | - · · · | · - · · | · · - | · |
> 
> I may take a break from writing for this story for a bit in order to review what I have. Don't worry, I'll keep posting, but if there's a delay then don't freak lol


	21. 20 - Blue Hopes

**Chapter Twenty:**

“ _Steve_?” The man didn't answer. He flipped through another file, his head bowed low and eyes soaking in the words. “Steve, come on. You've been at this for _weeks_.” Someone tried to pull the papers away, but Steve's hand pressed down on it.

He raised his head to see Tony standing over him, one hand on his hip, the other on the table. Steve couldn't help but see Howard in his features, gruffy but concerned, always keeping an eye out for the reckless boy Steve was ― that he still was.

“I don't know what you want, but unless it's helping me find Blue, then leave me alone,” Steve said coldly, yanking the papers away. One of then tore down the middle, the sharp ripping didn't seem to resonate with Steve, not for a few moments.

“Steve, come on. It's been nearly a month. You told us that Blue said that if he went back he would be. . .” the end of his sentence hung in the air, ready to slip and fall with the full meaning of the word. Tony instead, cleared his throat. “There's no way. We don't know who they look like. We don't know where they are. All we know, is that there is a major corporation funding the dozens of littler ones. If we take down the big one, the little ones close their doors ― they go into hiding. They'll probably kill or move the kids overseas or some shit like that. Blue will _actually_ be gone.”

“If we can figure out which smaller organization took him,” Steve said. He's been saying this for weeks. He's been explaining this to whoever listened, whoever would help. Clint joined on for a while before having to go overseas for a mission. Natasha took his place, but even with an ex-Russian assassin and a _Man-Out-Of-His-Element_ , no new leads presented itself.

The crash had been clean, efficient. No working cameras on the street, the partial license plate that he saw and eventually figured out was in stolen from some guy in Vegas. No _fingerprints_. No _trails_. Nearly half of the Police force were either moved or dead within the week that Steve and Tony were in the hospital.

This included the Sheriff that Steve had coaxed Blue to come away from his mother's body on his behalf. He was the first to die ― shot in the head and left for dead in a gutter. Somebody did not want this information leaked. Somebody did not want him to find Blue.

“We can't hone in on something we can't find,” Tony said, trying to sound gentle. Steve wanted to punch him in his 'gentle’ nose. “Let him _go_ , Steve. We're all upset by it, but. . . we need to move on.”

Steve glared at the man in front of him, his anger, frustration and grief all mixed in one, solid glare. For what it was worth, on anything, anyone else, it would have burned them from the inside of their heart, out.

Too bad Anthony Stark didn't _have_ a heart.

“If you're done pouting,” Tony said, crossing his arms. “Then, Fury’s here to see you.” Steve rose an eyebrow. _Fury_? “JARVIS, let Fury know that Steve's ready to talk.”

“ _Right away, sir_ ,” the disembodied A.I. replied.

“Talk to the man. I don't like him, either, but whatever he's here for, he's here for _you_. Get your mind off of a ghost and live in the present.” Steve crossed his arms and rolled his eyes ― admittedly, like a huffy teenager. Tony didn't mind and patted his cheek. “ _There's_ the fun-hating Capsicle I know.” Tony grinned before the door opened.

He stepped away as Fury approached. His long coat shimmering as he walked. His hands clasped behind his back like a soldier. “ _Fury_ ,” Steve greeted, shaking his hand politely. “What brings you here?”

“I could ask the same for you,” Fury replied and a frown tugged at the end of his lips. Before Blue, Steve would be in his apartment the majority of the time. Now, it felt empty and lonely ― two things he certainly did not like ― but he wasn't about to do go back to it any time soon. Tony didn't mind his staying here, as long as he didn't put the coffee grounds in the sink ― that he sometimes did on purpose just to annoy the guy.

“Is there a reason for you coming here?” Steve asked, wanting to get on topic ― wanting to finish this conversation so he could go back to Blue.

“I am well aware of your recent loss.” Steve was going to kill Tony ― Blue _wasn't_ dead! “I have a job for you. I was hoping it would work as a. . . _distraction_ from your loss.”

“Blue _isn't_ dead,” he reminded the man, who nodded, obviously not agreeing, but nodding.

“We have a Black Ops team, called _STRIKE_. They recently lost a man too, someone very important and strong. I was wondering if you would be willing to fill the hole, Captain Rogers.” Steve frowned at the use of his title. “Ms. Romanoff will be joining you as well, if it means anything.”

Steve kept frowning, his arms crossed. He glanced back at the files. There were several boxes that weren't even open, weren't even glanced at. It would take him a year to go through everything thoroughly. A year without Blue, who at that point could be anywhere. A year and he would practically be clutching straws.

“If it sweetens the deal,” Fury continued. “I'll put a team together, people who can help you find the boy Tony told me about.” Steve frowned, “They'd be able to garner a lot more information than just you. They would give the boy a fighting chance.”

Steve looked down, ran a hand through his hair, and let out a deep, involved, sigh. “This isn't permanent.”

“Alright,” he said.

“I want updates on Blue's search.”

“Naturally,” Fury replied.

“And, I get to pull out whenever I want,” he finished. “No strings attached.”

Fury hesitated, before saying, “Okay, deal. Is that all?” Steve nodded, he had no other requirements that he could think of. Fury gave a wry kind of smirk ― Steve didn’t think the man could smile. “ _Good_. You start on Monday. I’ll see you in D.C., Rogers.” And with that, the director turned and left the Tower.

Three days later, so did Steve.

**k•é•k**

  
Steve didn’t exactly enjoy his time with the STRIKE unit, but he also didn’t hate it as well. According to the research team, they were using whatever resources SHIELD had to track Blue down and bring him home. In the meantime, he and Natasha worked covert assassination, rescue missions, and taking down small tyrants in third-world countries. According to Fury, they were causing issues for SHIELD. Natasha said that they were going to use the power vacuums and seize the area, and exploiting the resources.

Despite the work, he was grateful for the distraction. The researchers seemed to have found the faint breeze of a lead and were pushing to see what they could do about it. When he heard the news, he was, admittedly, excited, but immediately pushed it away. He didn’t want to get his hopes up until they had concrete evidence that Blue was still alive ― or at least successfully found his body. Blue might not have seen himself as a person, but if he was dead, he wanted to give him a proper burial, preferably next to his mother.

Steve had also got an apartment in D.C., it was closer to the SHIELD headquarters, so if he was called on with sudden missions, he didn’t have to travel too far. He didn’t want to at first ― if Blue came home, he wanted to be there if he needed to find him. But, after a bit of arguing back and forth with Natasha and Tony, he finally agreed to get the apartment in the city ― on the condition that if Tony saw anyone who even looked like Blue, he would call him.

The apartment was a bit smaller than the one in Brooklyn, but it was home. At least, it was until his neighbour, a pretty blonde woman named Kate Walker, made a comment about him leaving his stereo on while he was out.

Except, Steve didn’t _own_ a stereo.

Steve entered the apartment precariously, grabbing his shield off the wall, ready to attack anyone waiting to get the jump on him. He hoped Kate was already in the basement, the further from a fight, the better. Steve stepped into his living room, and relaxed. Sitting in a corner on his armchair, playing music on a small speaker, was Nick Fury.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Steve said, still gripping his shield in his hand. Why the _hell_ was he here?

“You really think I’d need one?” Nick let out a small scoff. “My wife kicked me out.”

This warranted an eyebrow raise from Steve. “Didn’t know you were married.”

“A lot of things you don’t know about me,” Nick replied, as annoyingly vague as ever.

“I _know_ , Nick,” Steve frowned. “That’s the problem,” He stepped forward, about to turn on the lamp. He could at least get the man a cup of coffee. When he flicked the light on, he stared, shocked.

Nick Fury was completely banged up. His lip was busted and a ugly purple bruise swelled on his cheek. He was bleeding from a deep gash in his forehead. His right arm was wrapped around his mid-section, probably from bruised, or broken, ribs. His lips were stained red from spitting up blood that had probably infected his lungs.

Nick gave a small smirk, and leaned over with a small grunt, turning the lamp back off. He pulled out his phone and typed with one hand before showing it to Steve.

**EARS EVERYWHERE**

  
“I’m sorry to have to do this,” Nick continued, as if Steve hadn’t discovered his bloody, broken form in his living room. He began to type again. “But I have no place else to crash.” He showed Steve again.

**SHIELD COMPROMISED**

  
“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked carefully and he began to type again. He couldn’t help thinking of how he always thought Fury was ‘married’ to his job.

Fury showed him the message.

**YOU AND ME**

  
“Just. . . my _friends_ ,” He breathed.

“Is that what we are?” Steve couldn’t help but sound skeptical. A man who ― as Tony once said ― his _secrets_ had secrets. But, now, this man was in his house, asking for help, even though he never seemed willing to trust anyone. When he suddenly needed something done, they were ‘friends’? Was Steve only a convenience for him, and a throw away at any other time?

“That’s up to you to―” He didn’t finish his sentence. The all-too-familiar sound of gunshots rang out from behind Fury. Steve ducked behind his shield as the bullets flew threw him. He heard three distinct, ‘ _pangs_ ’ as it bounced harmlessly off the vibranium.

Steve quickly turned to the window, knowing he was wasting time, but he had to try to get a glimpse at the shooter. He didn’t see anyone.

Fury was on the ground. Steve pulled him away, behind a wall in the kitchen, out of range from any more attackers. He got up to run again, but Fury grabbed his arm, keeping him in place. He pressed a flashdrive in his hand and breathed out an unsteady, “Don’t. . . trust. . . anyone. . .” before his eyes closed finally.

Steve heard the door open and stood. “Captain Rogers?” Suddenly, Kate was standing in his living room, holding a handgun expertly. “ _Captain_ ,” Her voice had lost it’s soft, southern appeal. It was harsh and in charge. “I’m Agent 13 of SHIELD Special Service.” _SHIELD_? Kate was a _SHIELD agent_? Did Fury assign her to him? Was her name even _Kate_!?

“ _Kate_?” Was all he managed to say, too stunned by the sudden shift in character.

“I am assigned to protect you,” She said, confirming his thoughts.

Steve remembered Fury’s last words, a zephyr in his ears. “ _Don’t. . . trust. . . anyone. . ._ ”

“On _whose_ orders?” Steve demanded, he had to be sure. Kate stepped forward, and saw the body of Director Nick Fury on his kitchen floor.

“ _His_ ,” She said, also a bit shocked. She bent down and brought her wrist to his mouth. “ _Foxtrot_ is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

A voice crackled back, “ _Do you have a twenty on the shooter_?” Steve turned, remembering the window. He caught a glimpse of movement on the roof across from his.

He grabbed his shield, “Tell him I’m in pursuit.” Steve didn’t wait for her confirmation. He ran at the window, smashing into it and leaping from the sill. He landed on the adjacent building in a roll and bean to run after the shooters. There were two men, both running at full speed, nearly as fast as him.

Steve flung his shield at him, and the first man turned, catching it. Steve stared at the man. Brown, cold eyes gleamed in the moonlight, with what looked like dirt smudged around them. His hair was a wild mess, tangled, dark, and unruly. He had a strange mask, covering his nose and the bottom half of his face. He was all bulk and armour and the hand that held his shield glinted silvery steel. His entire left arm was exposed as some kind of metal prosthetic.

The man flung the shield back at him, and Steve caught it, but not before the man had jumped off the roof.

The other one, however, was standing there, staring. He looked confused, his eyebrows thick and drawn together. His mouth exposed, but gagged, only allowing minimal movement and two long fangs to be released. Steve froze, staring at the man, and he finally saw the dark, dark blue eyes that shone back at him, glazed over and vacant.

A sharp whistle, and Blue turned. Before Steve could call out, Blue jumped off the building. His claws scraping along the side, softening his descent. Steve didn’t run after him, his feet felt like they were hollowed out and filled with cement. That was Blue, he had the unmistakable eyes ― that was _Blue_! Blue was _alive_!

Steve heard the sound of helicopters overhead and turned. The noise shook him out of his thoughts. He remembered Nick Fury, prone on the ground, probably being moved to a hospital via helicopter as he stood there, allowing his attackers to escape.

They were probably long gone now. Steve would have no chance finding them on the streets. Steve turned and began to run back. He had to tell Natasha what happened, he had to let her know that he found him!


	22. 21 | Blue Fights

**Chapter Twenty-One:**

His mouth hurt. It hurt so bad. Drool _dripped dripped dripped dripped_ past his cracked, dry lips. His mouth hurt. He couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t _breathe_.

He let out a gurgled whine. rolling on his back, It needed to come off! He couldn’t breathe! It needed to come off! _Off! Off_!

“Shut him _up_ , please,” Someone grumbled, annoyed. Blue tried to lie still, tried to behave, but it was too late.

The electrical prod hit him in between his shoulder blades. Blue screamed at the top of his lungs, only causing more saliva to shoot out. He coughed raggedly, gasping and curling away. “Quiet,” his Master ordered softly. He was always soft. He wasn’t cruel, but he was gentle. He did as he was told, like him. He followed orders. He was ordered. Be quiet. _Be quiet_. No more prods if he is quiet.

He gasped, but didn’t cry out anymore. But, he silently tried to get it off. He clawed at his mouth, his mangled tongue, but it was no use ― it wasn’t coming out. Blue remembered when they put it in.

_“Too valuable to be dissected."_

 

_"Give him to us."_

 

_"Make better use for him."_

 

_"—Billion dollars!"_

 

_"Wipe him."_

 

_"Give him to the Asset.”_

  
He squirmed, exhausted. Could he sleep? Would they take it off so he could rest? Did they take it off? _Could_ they? He didn’t know, he didn’t remember. He was cold, he was in his cage, he was tired, and god it hurt.

“Fury is dead,” the man said, circling his Master. He watched through half-shielded eyes. “We have reason to believe Captain America is withholding information.

“ _Torture_?” His Master asked.

“No. Too blatant,” the man said. “We’ll give him a chance, put Rumlow on the table, have him talk to Rogers.”

The man agreed. He had side-hair and cold eyes, but not like his Master’s eyes. His was different. This man nodded, his cold eyes glinting like sun on fresh snow.

He didn’t like him. He never said it ― he couldn’t say it. The man scared him. Sometimes, he would discipline him. Some of the big scars were from his disciplines.

“Keep them both on standby,” Someone else spoke. Short, blonde, _fake, fake, fake_. He looked nice, he looked friendly. He was like a shiny coloured snake, pretty until _snap_! You’re dead before you knew it, and blood would be everywhere. “Keep a close eye on Rogers. He might become a liability.” That was it. Everyone was moving. His Master grabbed his chain, leading him out of the room.

He followed behind, keeping his head down. Don’t look up, don’t look at them. He would get discipline, he would be hurt. “You hesitated,” his Master spoke to him. “Why?”

He didn’t give a response, he didn’t have one to give. He had stopped earlier to stare at the blonde hair, crystal-blue eyed man who had chased him and his Master. His Master had already left, but he couldn’t stop staring at him. He couldn’t help. . . _feeling_ as he stared at him.

He tensed, he didn’t _feel_ , he _couldn’t_ feel. Feelings were for _people_. He would get wiped if his Master knew. But, he saw him staring, he saw him thinking, he saw him feeling. He would be wiped. He would be disciplined.

His Master led them to his cell. It was small, and Blue’s cage took up most room. He crawled in immediately and lied down, holding his face. _It hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt_ ―

“Come here,” his Master ordered, and Blue responded, getting out and sitting on the ground beside him. His Master reached into his mouth, and began to slowly unscrew the gag a little. Blue instantly relaxed, nearly falling back in relief. His Master finished, and Blue pressed his fingers against the top of his mouth, forcing his fangs to slide back into his gums. Blue gratefully slipped back into his cage and laid down, closing his eyes, trying to rest quietly.

He couldn’t. He could hear everything in the base. He could hear the heels of the men’s shoes clicking against the floor of the stone outside his Master’s cell. He could hear the heartbeats of the men on the floor. He could smell the blood in the air, it was old and stale. He could hear the flies buzzing about the room. It all kept him up. It all echoed in his head. It was all a mess, a mess.

He clutched his head, groaning, his arms shaking. It was so much. He wanted it to stop, stop, stop _stopstopstop_ ―

He curled up, breathing, breathing, breathing, it hurt to breathe. It hurt, the gag hurt and it stretched his mouth like putty. He couldn’t feel his face. He was so cold and the saliva dripped down his chin, He balled his fists, his long claws, his long nails, his long monstrosities piercing his skin. Now there was blood dripping down his palms. The blood hit the ground and plunk it spread on the cold floor. Would it turn to a blood icicle? He didn’t like that. It would be stuck, like him. He didn’t want the blood icicle to be stuck.

“Feee. . .” The words were a garble in his throat. It was a croak, he couldn’t help it. It burned his throat, he didn’t want to breathe, but the icicle couldn’t be stuck. He wanted to be free, it wanted to be free. “Fee―” He choked, cough, saliva, bile, and chunks of kibble flying out of his artificially opened mouth. He fell back, his entire body shaking.

“Go to sleep,” his Master ordered, a small hint, an nearly inaudible hint, of drowsiness in his voice.

He whined, he was tired, he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to sleep. Sleeping hurt, sleeping was scary.

But, this was an order. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. He tried to block out the noise, all the noise, of the base. He tried to focus, he tried to obey.

**b•l•á•r**

 

He didn’t like to dream. He was in the car and it flipped and now he was on the ground. Smoke surrounded them, but he couldn't smell the invasive scent that usually burned his nose. It smelt like apples and seawater. He gurgled, calling out a name that was indistinguishable in his own ears. He screamed out the name, and his mouth began to fill up with saliva and blood. It silenced him, it kept him from speaking. It put the gag back on him. 

  
Something dragged him by the waist, throwing him in a car. He kept screaming, he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to die! He was going to be dissected.

He screamed, as they brought him to his Old Master. Tears were in his eyes, as his Old Master cupped his cheek. “ _Dissection_.” He said, and he was taken away.

“ _Uhnn_ ―” He tried to protest, tried to speak. He didn’t want to die!

He was on the cold table that burned his back. The faceless doctors surrounded him, and he squirmed, crying out for the name, the name he couldn’t understand.

The knife was ragged and burned. He wailed louder, and watched as spiders, cockroaches, and snakes slipped out of his body in the place of blood and gore. He screamed again, as the bugs, began to sink their fangs into him too, eating him alive, destroying his body with the faceless doctors.

**A•o**

  
He heard shuffling, his Master was leaving him alone in the cage. He didn't say anything. He simply watched as the man got ready and grabbed his gun.

When his Master was about to leave, he made a sound. “ _Eerrrre_?”

His Master turned, he already knew he was awake. “To Pierce. Go back to sleep, I'll be back later.” He followed instructions, laying back down and closing his eyes while his Master left.

**b•i•r•u**

 

Someone kicked his cage, and he sat up, his hands were shaking. He grabbed at his mouth ― it was throbbing. 

  
He was stabbed in the side, and he let out a whine as the electric prod coursed through him. “Get up, Snoopy,” the man with cold eyes sneered. He looked at his Master. He was already dressed. “You've got a mission. Take your bloodhound with you.” He dropped the paper on the floor in front of his Master. “He needs to be dead ― _today_. My team’s coming with you so you don’t mess up the job this time.”

The man glanced at him and narrowed his eyes, “And, tighten his gag.” After that, the man left.

His Master was fast, opening his door and he stalked out. He let his Master tighten the bolts, making the throbbing soreness in his jaw jump hundred times worse. He kept in a moan, and began to claw at his tongue, knowing it wouldn’t get it out, but it still helped.

His Master grabbed his gun, checking the ammo, grabbed his chain, and left. He followed quickly, keeping his head down, his eyes on the floor. Pets don’t look at People. Pet stay quiet or they are killed.

His Master armoured up, instructing him to do the same. He obeyed, putting the armour on, keeping his body secure.

The man with cold eyes approached his Master. “I got a scent.” He said, and then shoved a pile of dirt in his face. He flinched away and the man expected it, electrocuting him without a second thought. He curled, trying to pull away from him, but his Master held his chain tighter.

The man with cold eyes shoved the dirt in his face again, and he sniffed it. He was hardly able to get a scent, there were so many other things, but something did stand out. The smell of apples and seawater, it was so distinct that he sniffed it again. He liked the smell. It was from his dream.

“He's got it. Let's go." They began to move. He was lead to a car and his Master sat down. He sat at his feet. He couldn't forget that smell ― apples and seawater. Why was it the same? Why was it familiar?

The car drove for a long time. He could hear other cars around them. His Master moved, getting out through the top. He moved to go with him, to follow him, but his Master raised a hand. He sat back down, staring at the floor.

His Master left and a few minutes later, the car accelerated. It slammed into something and didn't slow down.

The men in the car grabbed the big guns, getting ready to get out. He did so as well, bringing his long fangs out of his freshly tightened gag. One of the men unhooked his chain, freeing him. “Kill Captain Rogers.” A man ordered and he nodded.

The door opened and the men filled out. Someone handed a big gun to his Master, who stood there, tensed for a fight.

He suddenly smelt the apples and seawater, and found the source even faster. His Master shot at the blonde man, and he went flying, falling off of the highway and crashed into something below.

He ran at it, jumping off and slowing his descent with a beam. Apples and Seawater caused a bus to turn over and cars to stop in the street. He went to the bus, and climbed up the side, yanking the door off.

He dropped inside the bus. People were still hanging from the seats, suspended in a horror-like sleep. He stepped through, crunching on glass. A few people got one look at him and screamed, running the opposite direction. They climbed through a window or shoved past him.

He sniffed, finding the apples and seawater. It was hiding behind a chair. He used his claws to tear through it, grabbing for his throat. He caught air and frowned.

The man flipped around the side, and yanked him back, holding him in a headlock. He gagged, his fangs sinking into his exposed arm, but the man didn't care. “Blue, it's me. Stop fighting, it me, Steve.”

“Iiiillll. . .” He hissed, gasping and trying to claws the man off.

“Blue, listen to me, I'm here. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna take you home.” He stared and stopped moving for a minute, confused. Fake. This man told lies. Pets didn't have homes, people had homes. Pets had cages, he had cages.

He swiped his hand across the man’s leg, his claw slicing his thigh easily. Most of the people had evacuated by now.  

Bullets raved through the bus. The man grabbed his hand and began to run, as the bullets followed behind them quickly. One hit him in the back of his leg, another skimmed past his shoulder.

He hissed, as Apples and Seawater slammed through the glass, shattering it. He covered himself with a shield he found on the ground.

He groaned a bit, his fingers gripping his leg, eyes closed, as the man began to attack the shooters. One by one they fell, before he rushed one, knocking him off the car, the bullet ricocheted back and hit him in the side.

He stood as Apples and Seawater began to run away. He came over, trying to intercept, but a rain of bullets stopped him from moving.

He looked up, a shooter was on the highway, ready to kill him. He scowled. He needed to get to his Master. This man was annoying him. He moved behind cover, in order to not get shot. He saw his Master raising a gun at a woman who was clutching her bleeding shoulder.

Apples and Seawater stopped him. He came up and kicked his Master. He snarled, trying to get over there, but as soon as he moved out of the way, a few more bullets stopped him. He was about to run out and grab a gun ― _guns are people things guns are_ ― he heard the man turn and run away.

He took this chance and ran, no bullets hitting him in the back. His Master was trading blows with Apples and Seawater. He ran to help him, and felt something hit his side.

Electricity ran through him, and he fell back, groaning. He tried to find the thing causing it, but his fingers grabbed at air. He began to convulse, shaking, unable to breathe. He felt the saliva _drip, drip, drip_ down his chin. It was filling in his mouth, he was _drowning_.

He heard an explosion and sirens. He stayed on the ground, and a man came beside him, pulling something off of his side. He released a breath of relief, just as someone grabbed him by the arm, yanking him up.

The man with cold eyes was shouting, “Drop the shield, Cap!” The man ordered, and he went still. Everything was loud. He wanted it to stop, it was so loud.  “On your knees! Get on your knees! _Now_! Get down! _Get down_! Don't move!” The man with cold eyes paused for a second, “Put the gun down. Not here. Not here.”

He watched as the two men and a woman had their hands clasped behind their backs, and led to a car. The man with cold eyes nudged him forward. “Put the dog in there too. If they try to run, we'll know.”

Someone locked the chain on him and led him to the truck. The tied it to a pole and left. He sat on the floor, watching the three adults as they stared at him. The door closed and the car began to move away from the scene.

He wondered where his Master went. He wondered why he left him.


	23. 22 | Blue Escapes

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

“Blue?” He didn't move. “Can you hear me?” He could hear him, but he still didn't move to say something. His leg and his shoulder and his mouth hurt. His Master was gone, he was left in the truck.

Apples and Seawater didn't order him to say anything anyway, so Blue didn't say anything.

“ _Steve_. . .” The woman said softly, but Apples and Seawater didn't want to give up.

“He's in there. I saw him stop on the roof. He recognized me then.”

“They could've wiped him since then,” the woman tried.

“I don't think so,” he said. “He spoke to me in the bus—”

“He can speak with that thing on?” The other man asked. He smelt like smoke and had skin a few shades darker than his.

“Not really. It was hard to make out,” Apples and Seawater frowned. “Can you say something, B?” He blinked, who was B?

_“Yeah, B. Let's do that instead.”_

 

_“Do you have a nickname, or something?”_

 

_“It's okay ― I'm not mad, B.”_

 

_“Yes, Blue. We're gonna help you.”_

  
He didn't like this. He groaned, grabbing his temple. He didn't like this at all. Apples and Seawater was watching him, as he tried to get the words out of his head. Then, his gag started to hurt again. He clawed at his tongue.

“Wait, _no_! Don't do that!” Apples and Seawater exclaimed, edging forward. He stopped, dropping his hands, but his eyebrow twitched and he let out a whine of pain.

“Nnn. . . _Uuurrrhh_. . .” he moaned, and everyone simply stared at him.

“It's okay,” the woman said gently. “We'll get it off, don't worry.” He leaned back on the seat, trying to breathe. He was _drowning, drowning, drowning_.

“What did you call that guy?” The dark man of smoke asked. “Rucky? _Lucky_?”

“Bucky,” Apples and Seawater said. “He’s Bucky Barnes. I thought. . . I thought he was _dead_. It was him. He looked right at me like he didn't even know me.”

“How's that even possible?” Dark Smoky Man asked. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”

“ _Zola_ ,” Apples and Seawater said bitterly. He flinched at the edge in his tone. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and. . .” He stared off, his eyes full of emotion.

“None of that's your fault, Steve,” the woman said, gently.

Apples and Seawater shook his head. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky. . .” He turned to look at the woman and frowned. She was still bleeding. It seeped through her fingers, slipping on the floor.

It _stunk_. It was strong. He tried to turn away, but there were no windows. The smell was just filling the room more and more and more.

“We need to get a doctor here,” Dark, Smoky Man exclaimed. “We don't put pressure on that wound she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

He heard the sound of the prod hitting skin and yelped, flinching away. He wasn't bad! He didn't do anything!

He heard someone else speak. He kept covering his head, breathing, breathing, breathing. “Ah. That thing was squeezing my brain.” She looked around, “Who's this guy?”

“Sam Wilson,” Dark, Smoky Man said.

“Maria Hill. Second in command of SHIELD,” she frowned for a moment before adding. “The real SHIELD.”

She looked around, and her eyes settled on him. She moved, and he felt the prod hit hit back. He yelped again, but someone pushed her hand away.

“ _No_!” Apples and Seawater exclaimed. “Don’t hurt him. That's Blue.”

“Oh, sorry.” He didn’t move. He wanted to go back to his Master. “We can't take him with us ― he may have trackers.”

“I can neutralize it,” The woman said. And pulled out something on her belt. She tossed it to the woman with the prod. “Scan him with it.” He felt something bright flash at him, before stopping.

“It's in his mouth. With the gag.”

“Can you pull it out?” Apples and Seawater asked.

“No. It's too far in. But, it can be disabled.” She moved to him. “Get him to open his mouth ― _fast_.”

He did as he was told, opening his mouth and pressed against the top of his mouth with his fingers. His fangs slid back into his gums. The woman made a face before sticking her fingers in his mouth. He gagged a little, but felt her twist something. It clicked and she pulled her hand out.

She smirked at the others. “Now, we run.”

**g•o•r•m**

  
Dark, Smoky Man led him down a tunnel with his chain. He didn't make any noise, but his gag was sore. Usually, his Master loosened it now. Whenever he tried to get Dark, Smoky Man to loosen it, he just made a face and said, “I'd rather burn in hell than stick my fingers in your mouth.”

Instead, he suffered.

The woman and Apples and Seawater helped the bleeding woman. He kept his distance from the woman with the prod. He didn't want to get hurt again. He didn't know why she stopped, but he didn't ask her. Questions were for people, silence was for pets.

He heard more people coming and stood straight, his eyes darting down the tunnel. Their voices and movement echoed in the secluded space, he couldn't figure out how close or how far they were properly.

A woman ran up to them. She wore a white doctors coat. He stiffened, turning away, trying to run. “GSW. She's lost at least a pint,” Prod Woman said.

“Maybe two,” Dark, Smoky Man added.

“Let me take her,” the Doctor said, but Prod Woman shook her head.

“She'll want to see _him_ first.”

“Is there anywhere you can put Blue?” Steve asked.

“We have a holding cell,” Prod woman suggested, and he nodded.

“That'll do. Make sure it's guarded, he can't get out.” Dark, Smoky Man handed the chains to Prod Woman, and he went to help the bloody woman.

Prod Woman led him away, down farther and farther into the tunnels until they got to an opening.

It was huge and dark. A dozen or so people milled around busy working or getting things ready. A few heads turned their way when they saw him and Prod Woman. More than a few stared at him.

He didn't like this. He didn't want to be here.

Prod Woman brought him to a room and unchained him. “If I tell you to stay here, will you?” He whined, motioning to his mouth. She frowned, an emotion filling her eyes. “Does it hurt?” He nodded.

“Urrrr. . .” He moaned.

She sighed, “Can I take it off?” He shook his head ― that hurt too. It all hurt. He hated this. He wanted it off!! “Is there a way I can. . . Loosen it?” He nodded. “How?” He reached in his mouth, rubbing the bar his Master always used to loosen the gag.

She nodded and tried to herself. She twisted, trying to maneuver it, but it wasn't working. She couldn't loosen it. “Can you wait a bit? Until we can. . . get you situated?” He moaned, _it hurt. It hurt. It hurt._

He nodded, and she smiled gratefully. “We'll be back.” She closed the door.

**b•l•u**

  
He was huddled in the corner, laying on the ground and crying silently when the door opened again. Apples and Seawater stepped in. He moaned, his arms shaking. It hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe. It hurt so bad. Get it off, get it off.

“Hey, Blue,” Steve murmured, moving close to him. He motioned to his face, he wanted it off!! “Maria said she couldn't get it off. Is it alright if I take a few pictures of it?” He sobbed, curling up, his shoulders shaking. He couldn't feel his face. He wanted it off! Please! Take it off!!

Apples and Seawater stared at him for several moments. “Bl. . . Blue,” he said gently. “Can I. . . please, I want to help you get it off.” He looked at him, pleading. “Can I take a picture?” He gave a small whine. If he was going to take it off, then he didn't care.

Apples and Seawater raised a device. “Stay still.” He didn't need to be told twice. He sat still and the man took a few pictures if him. When he lowered the device he slumped, his eyes rolling back. He was so tired. He wanted to go to sleep.

“Hey, Blue, don't―” he frowned, looking down at his bloody pants leg. “You were shot!?” This made him jump, he moaned, trying to move away. His damaged leg was bloody. He hadn't been able to feel anything in it for the past couple of hours. He turned it carefully and he hissed. “Why didn't you say. . . Right of course. I'll be back.”

He stood and quickly left the room. He returned with a few people with white doctors coats. “He was shot. I don't see an exit wound,” Apples and Seawater said.

The doctors moved forward, but he hissed at them, his eyes narrowed and fangs sliding out awkwardly over the gag. They went still, blinking dazedly. “No. Shit.” Steve shook each of them individually, until they blinked themselves back to life. “Don't look in his eyes. I can hold him down while you treat him.

“Alright,” one said. Apples and Seawater came behind him, and held his arms and head down. Someone else held down his other leg. The two doctors got to work. They pulled out a bag and dampened a cloth.

He smelt the alcohol and hissed, trying to pull away, but Apples and Seawater held tighter, not letting him go. He already had check up! Were they going to wipe him too? He cried out as they pressed the rag to his leg, soaking up blood. It burned and he whined in pain, trying to get away. Apples and Seawater grunted, and he clawed at his arms, drawing blood.

They stuck a pair of tweezers in his leg and a minute later, pulled out a bullet slug. He breathed, twitching as they sewed it up, then bandaging it. As soon as they let go, be moved away, watching them all cautiously. “Blue? Where you hurt anywhere else?” He shook his head, but the man didn't think to believe him.

He moved forward and he half-growled, half hissed at him. He kept his eyes darting from person to person in the room, his body coiled in anticipation of a attack. Apples and Seawater noticed. He waved a hand at them, and they began to leave the room. A minute later, it was just him and Apples and Seawater.

“Is that better?” He didn't say anything. “Does your jaw still hurt?” He nodded, it felt like it was burning him from the inside out. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. “I can. . . we can try to take it off. They said that the. . . the gag is drilled into your. . .” He swallowed, “Your jaw.” He rubbed his forehead, his shoulders sagging with an invisible weight. “Do. . . you remember me? Do you know who I am?”

Blue was quiet, he stared at Apples and Seawater for a long minute. The man sighed, getting his answer. “I’m. . . not surprised. My name―”

“Eee. . .?” He said, his tone twisting into a question. Apples and Seawater blinked, and gave a small smile.

“Steve,” He said. “My name is Steve. And, your name is Blue.”

He shook his head, names were for people, he wasn’t a person. “Blue,” He began, then he frowned, touching his ear.

He stood, “I have to go. I’ll be back soon, alright.” He whined, touching his mouth ― what about the gag? He said he was going to get it off!

Steve noticed, “I. . . I don’t know―” he growled, grabbing his arm. It was so tight, tight, tight. “I can ask Maria if they can start the procedure, or get someone to help you. You’d. . . would you be willing to let a few doctors look at you?” He frowned, then gave a hesitant nod. As long as it came off, he didn’t care.

“Okay,” Steve smiled, and he let go of him. “I’ll be right back,” He got up and left him. He sat in the room, quietly.

When Steve returned, Prod Woman and a few doctors followed him. He stiffened, looking around. He didn't want to be in a room with all these people. There were too many. Was he being disciplined? Was he being wiped?

He moved back, growling looking around at the others. His jaw hurt whenever he made noise. It hurt so bad. Take it off! “Hey, Blue,” Steve said gently, coming over to him. Take it off!! Take it off! “They're going to loosen the gag, alright? Can you let them do that?” He shook his head. He already had his check up.

His fangs slide back over his teeth and he hissed, “Nnnnn. . .” He gurgled, his body shaking.

“We can put him to sleep for a while,” Prod Woman suggested. “While we try to undo it.”

“He'll react negatively to needles,” Steve said, glancing at him. “We'll try the pills first.” Steve dug into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He held it in front of him. “We're going to help you, but I need you to swallow these, alright?” He frowned, looking at the package with the foreign letters written on it. “Can you swallow these?”

Was that an order? He nodded and Steve gently ripped the package open. He smelled the pills immediately and moved back, his eyes wide, his mouth open and dripping dripping dripping.

He remembered being in his cage, his stomach burning in pain. He remembered vomiting yellow slush and being unable to eat anything for days. He remembered. . . He remembered. . .

“Blue? Hey, B, look at me,” his back was against the wall. He needed to get out. He whined in pain, and the doctors and Prod Woman took a step back. Steve looked at them, “Give me a few minutes, alright?” They agreed, more than eager to leave the room with him in it.

He clawed at his tongue, hunched over, trying to get the acidic taste out of his mouth. It burned. It burned. It burned. He didn't like it. It burned.

“B,” Steve moved a bit closer. He whined, he wanted it off. He wanted to sleep. He was tired. It hurt. He wanted orders. What were his orders? Where was his Master? “Calm down, calm down.” He whined, falling on his side, the drool sliding out the side of his mouth. He was tired.

“I know you're tired,” Steve said gently. “I know you want to sleep, but we can't get that. . . that thing off of you if you don't cooperate. Do you want the gag off?” He nodded weakly. “Then you have to swallow these pills.” He held out the package to him.

His hands shook as he took them from Steve. He whined as he tipped it in his mouth and roughly swallowed ― it hurt to swallow. _It hurt it hurt_.

“Good,” Steve looked a bit more relaxed. “Now, I'm going to call the doctor's back in. They're going to help you, okay?” He nodded, his head felt fuzzy. He rubbed his mangled hair, swallowing again.

Steve stood and opened the door just as his eyes drooped closed and he slumped forward.


End file.
